


Livin' On a Prayer

by MidKnightRider



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 137
Words: 210,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4743131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidKnightRider/pseuds/MidKnightRider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at the series from season 4 on, from the POV of another angel, flashbacks to Wee-chesters and Teen-chesters, the brother's relationship, tags, missing scenes and original MOTW adventures all in one place</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lake Monsters and Kitty Litter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The SPN Family](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+SPN+Family).



**I wrote this because Sam needs his own angel. The time frame is sometime in mid-Season 4. This is a new fandom for me. Any glaring mistakes? Let me know.**

**(0)**

Dean finished his bottle of beer and set it on the picnic table next to him. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his legs and clasp his hands in front of him. The vista spread out before them was serenely gorgeous: the south shore of Lake Erie in all its sunset glory.

“I don’t know, Sammy,” he said, as if he was thinking out loud. “Lake monsters? Is that really our thing?”

“You don’t think lake monsters really exist do you?” Sam asked. He was standing closer to the shore, feet braced, hands in the pockets of his jacket, “and if they did, they’d be biological. So no, that’s not our thing. But there’s something weird about this one.”

“That lake is huge, Sam,” Dean pointed out, “It’s practically a freaking ocean.”

“Fourth largest of the Great Lakes,” Sam mused.

“Wow, fourth out of five,” Dean said, pretending to be impressed.

“Twelfth largest in the world,” Sam said, trying to make it more impressive.

“Hmm, “Dean said, clearly still on the fence. “Weird that it’s called ‘erie’ and we’re here checking it out.”

“It’s from the Iroquois tribe called ‘Erie’; or maybe their word ‘erige’ meaning cat.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wikipedia.”

“Shut up,” Sam said, but he was trying not to laugh.

“I don’t know, Sam, “Dean repeated, “Even if there is something deadly out there, how are we supposed to find it?”

Sam was quiet for a moment, contemplating the vast body of water, listening to the soft lap of the ripples against the shore. The sun was setting, tinting the sky with streaks of red and pink

“Well,” he said, finally, “I guess we start the way we always do, by questioning the locals. Five overturned boats in as many weeks with only one survivor, so we question her first. Then we do some research to see if we can find stories that match.”

“So if it’s not a regular,” Dean paused, trying to think of what he wanted to say without sounding stupid. Then he waved his hand around helplessly, “plain old trapped-plesiosaur lake monster, what do you think it is?”

Sam shrugged and bent to pick up a stone. With an effortless movement of his arm and flick of his wrist, he sent the stone skipping across the surface of the lake. Dean counted. Ten. Not bad. But Sam had always been like that – graceful and capable, picking up skills easily; perfectly able to do something after only having seen it once or twice, with above average results, every time. He decided not to say anything because Sam would shrug it off as inconsequential. Sam probably knew what the stone skipping record was and if he wasn’t in the same league as that he’d say it wasn’t good at all.

Sam had always been like that too.

“Hydra maybe,” he said, finally, turning around to hop up on the table next to his brother. “With all seven heads.”

“What would a hydra be doing in Lake Erie?”

“Destroying boats and drowning people,” Sam answered, drily.

Dean snorted. “We could be hunting real monsters you know. They’re out there – vampires, werewolves, ghosts, wendigos. You know, our regular stuff.”

“I know,” Sam agreed.

They didn’t say anything else for a while. Sam dug into the cooler on the table behind Dean and got them each another bottle of beer.

“Maybe it’s a mermaid,” Dean said with a grin. “I’d like to see one of those.”

“It’s not a mermaid,” Sam said, drinking and then holding the bottle between his hands.

“That would be cool though,” Dean insisted, “We’d finally find out if they’re hot or not. It would make all this sitting around day-dreaming worth it. We should be hunting.”

“We _are_ hunting,” Sam said, attempting to placate.

“At the moment, we’re staring at water,” Dean said, starting to sound grumpy.

Sam finished his beer in a few long swallows and then hopped off the table. Dean wasn’t exactly thrilled to be spending late fall in northern Michigan. He didn’t like the cold; and at the moment the night was promising to be cold.

“Come on,” he said, picking up the cooler by one handle. “Let’s go get some hot food and try to figure out where to get Michigan patches for our Fish and Wildlife uniforms.”

“Dinner sounds good. We passed a steak house on the way here, did you see it?”

“Yeah, I saw it,” Sam answered, rolling his eyes. He’d known the minute he saw the sign that was where Dean would want to eat dinner.

“You can get a salad,” Dean pointed out.

“Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. “I can eat a steak.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean said.

They tossed the cooler onto the floor in the back of the Impala and climbed into their customary spots – Dean behind the wheel, Sam carefully folding himself into the ‘shotgun’ spot.

“We passed that motel with those cabins too,” Sam observed as Dean started the engine.

“So?”

“So it looked clean,” Sam said, because his motel needs were really pretty simple,” and the cabins are on the Lake.”

“Think they have one available?”

“It’s not exactly the height of tourist season. We’ll probably have our pick.”

“Okay,” Dean said, “steaks and clean cabin. Sounds like a plan.”

He gunned the engine and left the picnic area with the tires squealing and kicking up dust

(0)

The sky was dusky gray. All the streaks of red and pink had faded and the first stars were coming out.

They had picked a table by one of the large front windows. There was a red and white checkered curtain covering the lower half, but the lake was still visible through the upper half. The view was soothing and peaceful. It was hard to believe there might be something ominous out there, capsizing boats and potentially eating people. The other occupants of the diner were all locals in jeans and flannel plaid. So Sam and Dean fit in easily.

The steak house was pleasantly quaint. The menu proclaimed home-cooking and offered all of Dean’s favorites, right down to apple pie with ice cream. It also offered free-wifi, an odd juxtaposition with the old-fashioned décor and home-cooked food. Their cabin was just across the street, right on the lake shore. It had queen beds with clean sheets, patchwork quilts, and decently sized pillow. The walls were knotty pine paneling and there was a little bathroom with a single shower, white towels and a basket of soap and shampoo. There was a table with a coffeemaker, packets of coffee, creamer and sugar.

Pretty classy place for them.

Sam was alternately scrolling through the internet on his laptop, taking mindless bites of his rib-eye and baked potato and gazing out at the lake.

Dean hadn’t looked up from his T-bone smothered in mushroom gravy since it had arrived in front of him; unless the cute blond waitress – whose name was Mandy – stopped by the table to ask if they needed anything.

“So,” Dean said, around a half-swallowed mouthful of baked potato, “You find anything to explain what’s out there?”

“Well,” Sam said, “Like all fresh water lakes it has its own monster legends. The locals call her ‘South Bay Bessie’. The first sighting was in 1793. She was described as snake-like, about 15 feet long and grayish in color. Then in July 1892, the crew of a merchant vessel reported seeing a large area of water about half a mile ahead of them churned up and foaming. As they approached they saw,” Sam paused and his voice changed as he read from the computer screen, “a huge _sea serpent_ that appeared to be _wrestling_ in the waters, as if fighting with an unseen foe.” He read for another moment and then finished, “They observed as the creature relaxed itself and stretched out full length—estimated at 50 feet long and 4 feet around—with its head sticking up above the water an additional 4 feet . The creature was described being brownish in color with eyes _viciously sparkling_ and having large fins.”

Dean chewed thoughtfully, swallowed and asked, “Last sighting?”

“1993.”

“Nothing since?”

“Not until five weeks ago when boats and people started disappearing.”

“Nothing in the previous reports about attacks?”

“No. This is new.”

“How deep is the lake?

“Almost 1,300 feet at its deepest.”

Dean grunted. “Almost deep enough to hide you.”

Sam couldn’t help but smirk a little, though his smile was also filled with a grudging admiration and affection.

“Hey,” he said, cheerfully, “remember when I was nine and you had me in that headlock I couldn’t break and you said I should remember to pick on people my own size and I said someday I’d be bigger than you?”

Dean finally stopped eating and took the time to glare at his brother. “Yeah? What about it?”

Sam didn’t answer. He just grinned a little wider.

“Shut up and eat your steak, Sammy,” Dean suggested, going back to his own dinner.

Sam went back to eating but the smile continued to play on his face.

“Okay, this might be something,” he said, turning the laptop so Dean could see the screen. “The native population in this area had a legend about a giant underwater cat they called Mishipeshu – water panther. They lived in opposition to the Great Thunderbird, who had the power of the air.”

Dean studied the artwork on the computer screen. It looked like a dragon with spikes and scales, but with the head of a cat.

“So there’s a big house cat out in the lake swatting at boats? I’m not sure about that,” Dean said, shaking his head.

“Well if there’s one thing we’ve learned it’s that all legend has some basis in fact.”

Dean kept his eyes on his plate. This was the first time he had seen Sam smile in weeks, not since Pamela’s death and the fact that seals were being broken and Lucifer was going to be freed from his cage was still hanging over their heads. All the hunting they had done had been at Dean’s insistence and things had been rocky between them. This was the first hunt Sam had initiated. So if his ridiculously over-sized brother wanted to spend some time sailing around on a huge lake and freezing his butt off looking for a giant swimming cat, then who was Dean to stop him?

“So besides uniforms and IDs, what else do we need? Cat nip? Kitty litter?”

Sam fixed with a heavy, baleful look. Dean stared back and then said, “Meow Mix?”

Sam snorted and shut down the laptop. Mandy stopped by the table and Dean ordered them both apple pie with vanilla ice cream while she topped off their coffee. Sam didn’t miss the looks Dean exchanged with their lovely waitress. It was pretty clear she was just as into him as he was with her.

“I can hit Kinkos for a while,” Sam said, “work on those IDs, dig through our stuff to find the uniforms.”

Dean thought about it for a moment and then said, “Yeah. I mean if you want.”

“I want,” Sam assured him.

“Okay,”Dean said. He paused and said, “Thanks, bro.”

Dean gave him a sideways look and said, “No problem.”

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Are You Sure This Is Wise

True to his word, Sam had spent the night working on their uniforms and IDs. They even had name patches on the pockets of their shirts.

“Robert Johnson?” Dean asked, holding his up and studying it carefully.

“Yeah,” Sam answered.

Dean lifted both eyebrows and allowed the blank look on his face that only Sam ever really saw. Dean never let on when he really didn’t have a clue. Sam looked amused in return.

“What? You really don’t know?”

Dean shrugged, because he never cared if Sam knew he was clueless.

“He wrote _Travelin’ Riverside Blues_ ,” Sam explained.

It took a moment to sink in but then Dean grinned in appreciation and started changing into it with renewed vigor. When he saw Sam tucking in a shirt with a pocket patch that read _James Page_ he nodded in approval.

“Nice,” he said.

“Just for you, man,” Sam answered with an eye roll. He was glad that he’d made Dean smile, even though it was pathetically easy to make Dean smile. For a man whose life was a veritable Gordian knot of complications, the things that made Dean happy were pretty simple.

They drove to the other side of town and stopped at a diner for breakfast. Over a huge stack of pancakes, generous slabs of bacon, and bottomless cups of coffee, Sam and Dean warmed up their server until she was willing to answer some of their questions about the boating accidents. Since this time their server was the middle aged woman named Paula who co-owned the place with her husband – who was in the kitchen making the food – Sam let Dean do most of the heavy lifting. When it came to being genuinely and overtly charming, Dean was better than he was. He was a natural flirt. Sam’s strength was in managing to look like an overgrown puppy.

“So, Paula,” Dean said, giving her the full effect of his sexy green eyes. “What do you think of all the recent boating accidents?”

Paula snorted and waved a hand dismissively. “Drunken fisherman hitting rocks. You have to be careful on the water. Still it’s a shame about all the ones who didn’t make it.”

Dean grinned at her. He was still feeling generous about letting Sam pick the latest hunt. But he was also feeling pretty strongly that there wasn’t anything here. He was inclined to be very happy when locals backed him up.

“What about the legendary lake monster?” He asked, shooting a sly look at Sam, who sent a quelling look back at him.

“Bessie?” Paula asked. She sighed theatrically, “Oh yes. Part dragon and part cougar, with horns of copper and teeth of gold.“ She paused to wave a dismissive hand. “She’s nothing but another bunch of rocks in the water. The other business owners might not appreciate me saying this but all those stories are just used to bring in the tourists. It’s not like this little speck of Michigan on the shore of Lake Erie is a huge draw. It’s best to avoid drinking when you’re on the water. But if you do run it aground, you can always claim you saw a big head come out of the water, hissing like a cat, and then ran into its barbed tail.” She gave their uniforms a speculative glance. “Is that what you two are here to investigate?”

“Yes,” Sam said, “Can’t completely discount the idea that there is something biological involved. Three boats go down in a short space of time. All the witnesses and the single survivor report seeing something in the water…..”

“All the same cases of beer on deck,” Dean added.

Sam gave him that look that proclaimed his general annoyance and the fact that he was two hundred percent done with his brother.

From the kitchen, bending down to peer out the space below the wheel holding the orders, Paula’s husband Buddy yelled.

“It’s insurance fraud! All those boats coast a fortune to maintain. Bad economy equals wrecked boats,” He shook a wooden spoon at them for emphasis. “Mark my words. It’s all a scam. Wreck the boat and claim it was an ancient sea serpent.”

Dean smirked at Sam. “See? All kinds of other explanations.”

Paula noted the rapidly disappearing stack of pancakes on Dean’s plate and interrupted what would certainly have become a spirited brotherly debate. “You want a cinnamon roll to go with that stack? You look a man who enjoys a good cinnamon roll.”

“Homemade?” Sam asked.

“Made them myself,” she beamed at him, looking like she might want to adopt him.

“Then bring two.” Sam smiled.

(0)

By the middle of the afternoon they had finished interviewing the few witnesses that had been in the general vicinity of the second accident. The single survivor of the first accident refused to see them. They had spent time in a local library compiling a list of things that might possibly be in the lake. It was familiar to Dean, comforting, hunched over musty books while Sam tapped away on his laptop, trading stories. Of course, arguing about whether or not it was a big cat was new.

“Hey, maybe it’s a Capricorn,” Dean said, “A goat with a fish’s tail. That’d be cool.”

“No one has described it as a goat,” Sam pointed out patiently.

“How about a grindylow?”

Sam snorted a short laugh. “They’re small; and they’re from Harry Potter.”

“Oh yeah, right,” Dean shrugged and went back to the book on the table in front of him. He sobered a little and dared to suggest, “Iko-Turso?”

Sam shivered a little. “God, let’s hope not,” he said, sincerely. He spoke quickly then, to change the subject, “There’s a Lakota legend of a giant fresh water snake – the …… Uncegila.”

“Spell it,” Sam requested, typing as Dean recited letters. He clicked a few times and then read through the webpage that came up. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s similar to the Mishegenabeg, which is more local.”

He turned the laptop so that Dean could see the screen. There was an image of an artist’s rendition of a large snake, with an enormous crocodilian head, jaws full of teeth dripping saliva, and large, bulging eyes.

“It says they can take any shape, so that would explain the difference descriptions in the sightings,” Sam explained.

Dean stared at the picture for another few seconds and then said, “Dude, if that thing comes out of the water, I’m running the other way. We got nothing that’s gonna stop something like that.”

By the end of their research they still had no real idea what they were supposedly hunting, but Sam had found several summoning spells that would potentially help them.

They drove out to an isolated beach, dressed again in jeans and plaid flannel, thick socks and heavy boots. There was a light breeze coming across the water and the sky was gray, overcast and threatening. They started a fire and then assembled the things they were going to need. Sam was in charge of liquids and spell notes and silver knives. Dean brought the shotgun loaded with salt rounds and a revolver with silver bullets. He tucked a demon-knife in his belt, next to another one with a silver blade. Something about the familiar motions sent a thrill through him, the adrenaline rush of the hunt. His senses heightened. His heartbeat was getting faster. This is what they do – he and Sam. They were hunters and they were damned good at it. They’d gotten along just fine for years without any help.

But right at the moment, not knowing what they might be up against and with the image of Iko-Turso and Mishegenabeg still burning in his mind, his palms were a little sweaty and his shoulders were tense. Dean couldn’t help but think that it would be nice to have Castiel there. If this thing was a real biological creature they had no chance of stopping it. But an angel…. Well just maybe.

He tossed another branch on the fire and turned around – and nearly walked into Cas.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean muttered in return.

“Is that the new greeting? Do we no longer say hello when meeting?” Cas asked with a puzzled frown.

Dean shook his head, realizing that he’d missed that look.

“No,” Dean said, “We still say hello.”

Cas looked relieved. Then he stood up a little taller, squared his shoulders and said, “Hello, Sam.”

“Hey, Cas,” Sam answered, apparently less startled by the angel’s sudden appearance than Dean. “What brings you here?”

“Dean called me.”

“No, I didn’t,” Dean protested.

“Yes, you did.”

“Didn’t.”

Cas tilted his head. “You did not call me just now?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Sam answered, coming to Dean’s defense.

Cas seemed to consider that. “Then there must have been a longing-“

“A _longing_ ,” Sam interrupted with a huge grin breaking the seriousness on his face.

“There wasn’t a longing!” Dean snapped. “Look, Cas, why are you here?”

“Are you not about to do something dangerous?”

“Well, yes.”

“And the nature of this dangerous thing is?”

Sam waved a hand at the lake. “We’re going to try invoking the wrath of a thing that may be living in the depths of the water,” he intoned dramatically.

Dean glared at him with a ‘wtf’ look on his face. Cas just considered Sam carefully, because, really, the Winchesters had done far more dangerous things.

“Are you certain this is wise?” Cas asked.

“Not even a little bit,” Dean answered honestly.

“Some of the things my father created to live in the water are,” Castiel paused and searched for the correct term “…. Best left undisturbed.”

“You mean there really are lake monsters?” Dean sounded skeptical, determined to cling to his belief that there was nothing out there.

Cas looked bemused, even a slightly awed as he answered. “Not monsters. Most are quite beautiful – rare, wonderful creatures of the deep.”

Sam frowned, a furrow appearing between his brows. “Well this wonderful creature is attacking boats and eating people.”

Then Cas frowned. A breeze off the lake ruffled his hair and sent his coat blowing around his legs. He finally said, “That does not sound like one of my father’s creatures.”

“Ya think?” Sam answered.

“Okay but wait,” Dean interjected, “are you saying there really is something in Lake Erie?”

It was hard to catch either of the Winchesters off guard. But for the second time in ten minutes they were startled.

A voice answered Dean. It came from behind them. It was melodious and serene and distinctly female.

“Yes,” it said, “There is.”

(0)

 


	3. Raethaniel

They spun around, knives drawn, crouched and ready. The wind – which had so far only been a gentle breeze – blew up into a frenzy, whipping the lake into a froth and casting gray clouds over the sky.

But the only thing standing behind them was a woman. She was wearing jeans and a black jacket that went to her thighs. There was a grey scarf around her neck and black boots on her feet. The hood of the jacket was down, revealing a lion’s mane of wheat blond hair streaming behind her as if it was tamed by the wind. She had dark eyes under winged brows. She was a lovely woman, cool and poised and confident.

But since Sam and Dean had been attacked by lovely women before, they stayed in their defensive stance, knives at the ready. Only Castiel was relaxed.

It was Castiel who spoke next, in acknowledgment and recognition.

“Raethaniel,” he said, simply.

She looked at Castiel and for the first time she appeared to falter. She lowered her eyes, bowed her head, leaning forward slightly.

“Castiel,” she said. There was no mistaking the quiet respect in her tone.

For another moment no one else said anything. Then Dean burst out, “What? This is another angel?”

“Raethaniel,” Cas said, again, but this time in introduction instead of greeting. “A guardian of the Third Heaven, in the order of Baradiel, commander of the demon prison. Perhaps you could stop the hurricane winds now?”

“Oh,” she said and the wind died, settled back into the gentle breeze it had been.

“Another _warrior_ of god?” Dean asked, scathingly as he stood up straight again, feet squared. His tone and expression were cold and dismissive.

“She is a hunter of demons,” Cas told him, sternly, “One of our best.” The expression on his face changed to one of gentle appeal. “Not all angels are …. What did you call us? Douches?”

“Pretty sure it was dicks,” Sam answered.

“Ah,” Cas said, as if remembering. He tried one more time in a reconciliatory tone. “She has worked with humans before.”

“So what’s a demon hunter doing here?” Sam asked. He was upright again, but no less on the defense than his brother. In fact he had pulled up to his full height and squared his feet, which made him look even more threatening. The pissed off look on his face didn’t soften the image.

“Unless you want us to believe that the monster in the lake is actually a demon,” Dean said.

There was silence in which Raethaniel continued to look at Castiel, and Castiel continued to look back. The silence made Dean wary and it made Sam start to think. Castiel’s eyes narrowed.

“Wait,” Sam finally said, and it seemed to be directed at Dean, who was still obviously on high alert. “Raethaniel. You’re the angel who defeated the she-demon Enepsigos, the _only_ angel who could do that. You’re supposed to have great power over ‘the infernal legions’. Enepsigos was bond to King Solomon with a triple chain and forced to help build his Temple. She prophesied that the bars holding the demons would be broken as one of the signs of the Apocalypse. You’re _that_ Raethaniel?”

“Yes,” she said, simply.

Sam smiled a little. “I always thought that you were, you know,” he shrugged, “Male.”

“Of course you did,” she answered, “If it makes you feel better, I was once, about 5000 years ago.”

“Oh,” Sam said.

“So this Enepsigos is in the lake?” Dean asked. He still had that glare on his face that he only got when something had him seriously annoyed.

“No,” she answered. “But we believe something that she spawned has been lying dormant in the lake.”

“And it woke up because the seals are being broken?” Sam surmised.

Raethaniel shot him a startled and speculative glance. “Yes,” she said.

“It’s not that hard to figure out,” Sam said.

“Why are you here, Raethaniel?” Castiel interrupted.

“I was ordered to be,” Raethaniel replied. She had still not moved from one spot and, except for glancing at Sam, she had hardly blinked.

“By Baradiel?”

This time she blinked, looked away briefly. “Technically. He ordered me to assist the Winchesters.”

“Your boss called us by name?” Dean demanded.

He had been trying to stay unimpressed that they were being confronted by another denizen of heaven, another angel and one his brother had just described as having great power. But there was something in her eyes when she looked at him and he couldn’t deny that it was true. She was an angel.

“All of heaven knows the name Winchester,” she answered. For the first time the tone of her voice changed. She suddenly sounded reverent, respectful, even a little humbled. “But while my orders came from Baradiel, I am not confident that it was his plan. This came from much higher.” She moved her gaze to Castiel significantly. “ _Much_ higher.”

The brothers both shifted uncomfortably. Castiel swallowed. “Baradiel is a Seraph,” he said.

“I know,” Raeth replied.

The word – and all its implications - lay heavy between them for a moment.

“Raeth,” Cas said, “has Enepsigos escaped? I thought she was still imprisoned in the Third Heaven?”

“She is. All the seals have been reinforced. Nothing can escape from us that is already caged.”

“So how are you supposed to help?” Sam asked.

“I was ordered to come assist you in any way that I can and to bring you this.”

She held out her hand and the brothers could see a dull metal ring carved with a Star of David. Dean frowned. Sam inhaled sharply.

“What?” Dean asked, instantly suspicious again. “Is that the One Ring or something?”

Sam seemed partially paralyzed, staring at the ring. “Or something,” he began, voice shaking, “Is that …. Is that Solomon’s Ring? The seal of Solomon?”

“It is,” Castiel said, “But only humans can command the ring.”

“I am to give it to Sam Winchester,” Raethaniel said.

“ _Whoa_! Whoa, slow down,” Dean said, because no one was putting something on his baby brother unless he knew exactly what it did and whether or not it would come off. “First someone tells me what this ring is and what it does? ‘Cuz there’s a whole trilogy of movies that taught me ‘rings, bad’.”

“When Solomon used it,” Cas began, “he could command and invoke demons. You were about to use spells to do the same thing, but this will be much more effective and render the wearer safe.”

Dean looked impressed. “Okay so far. Downside?”

“I do not understand the question,” Cas said.

“What are the negative side effects?” Sam clarified.

“You won’t be able to destroy it,” Cas said, “Only summon it; and additionally it won’t harm you but no one else will be safe from it. No one human at least.”

“Will it come off? The ring? Will the ring come off?”

“Whenever he wants it to,” Raethaniel replied.

Dean looked at Castiel for confirmation and got it. Cas nodded. “Yes.”

“But we won’t be able to kill it?” Dean demanded.

“No, but there are two angels here now,” Sam said, calmly, “one of whom already caged this thing’s mother. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Raethaniel answered. “If you can summon it, we should be able to kill it.”

“We?” Cas said.

“We,” she nodded.

“ _Should_ be?” Cas went on.

“We aren’t exactly sure what it is, Castiel. I may require your assistance.”

“Your true form is an 1100 foot feathered dragon that can breathe fire,” Castiel pointed out.

“And yours is an 1100 foot pillar of pure flame,” She responded. “Nice work against the Egyptians that time, by the way.”

“Thank you, but that was orders,” Castiel said, dismissively before coming back on point. “And you still feel that will not be sufficient against a demon living in a lake?”

She made no further response and Castiel sighed.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look. They had seen Castiel destroy demons with a single touch. Sam knew the old mythologies about Raethaniel. He knew her power.

“Okay,” Sam said.

“What?” Dean questioned, sounding alarmed.

“Okay,” Sam repeated. “I’ll do it. We came here to get rid of lake monster and now it’s something much worse. I can help stop it. But you gotta leave.”

“I _what_?” Dean asked, sounding like he was going to beat the crap out of his brother.

“You gotta leave.” Sam insisted, sounding as if he was totally willing to take the beating if it got Dean out of there.

“No _way_ ,” Dean answered, and it was clear that he had quickly climbed to ten plus on his belligerence scale. “No. _Fucking._ Way.”

“Dean, she said it’s not safe-“

“Sam,” Dean growled.

“Dean has the amulet,” Castiel injected quickly because he knew that it was lunacy to suggest that one brother abandon the other.

The brothers stopped glaring at each other and turned to look at the angels.

“The amulet?” Raethaniel repeated.

“Around his neck,” Cas answered, indicating the object in question with a wave of his hand.

She studied it for a moment and then nodded. “It should be sufficient to protect him. We expected him to stay.”

“ _We_ did?” Dean asked, sarcastically.

This time she raked him up and down with a speculative glance. “As I said, all of heaven knows the name Winchester.”

She walked up to Sam, who towered over her, whose height and breadth should have been enough to make him feel safe. When she stopped in front of him it was clear that the top of her head barely reached his heart. But there was something in her bearing, in the way her eyes stared into his even though she had to look up. They were deep brown with sparks of copper and honey, dark chocolate with hazel nuts and Sam felt as if he was drowning. Her skin – sun kissed and golden – gleamed and Sam wondered what it felt like before he could stop the thought from forming. He was suddenly much more afraid of an angel whose true form was a dragon than he was of whatever was going to come out of the lake.

She handed him the ring. It was heavier than he had imagined it would be. Sam hesitated one moment more.

“Are you sure my brother will be safe?” He asked.

“As safe as you ever are when hunting demons,” Raethaniel replied.

Dean spoke up. “Look, Sammy, it’s what we came to do and it turns out you were right. There is some nasty mother in that lake. So let’s get it out of there.”

Sam looked back at Dean for a long moment and then sighed heavily and put the ring on his right hand. A tingle shivered from his finger all the way up his arm when he put it on. He felt the power move across his chest and spread through his muscles and veins.

“Wow,” he said, quietly.

“You okay?” Dean demanded.

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Sam answered.

“You won’t be able to wear it for long,” Castiel informed them.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh so _now_ there’s a downside,” he said.

Dean didn’t say anything but he looked like thunder.

“It’s not a downside,” Castiel said, tripping over the word. ”It is just a limitation.”

“Three whole movies,” Dean muttered darkly.

“What do I have to do?” Sam asked quickly.

Raethaniel reached up, brushed a piece of his hair away from his forehead and then touched him gently with one finger to his brow. Another tingle sizzled between them. Sam caught his breath.

“Repeat that incantation until it appears,” she said.

Stunned, Sam stared at her. He had a photographic memory. She could have let him just read it or told him what it was and he would have been able to do it. But this was the first time he’d had one ‘downloaded’ straight into his brain.

“You could have just told me what it was! I speak Latin.” When she simply regarded him in return so he went on in agitation, “That’s it? ‘I summon the demon, spawn of Enepsigos, to be subject to my will, and to come forth’?”

“Id est Omnia,” she replied.

Sam grimaced at her but he couldn’t help noticing the lovely shape of the mouth that was taunting him. “Nice,” he ground out. “Shall we get started?”

“Yes, let’s get started,” Castiel said, breaking the tension.

He moved everyone around so that he and Raethaniel were standing between Sam and Dean and the lake.

“Sam?” He prompted.

Sam took a deep breath, concentrated on the tingling power he could still feel radiating from the ring and began to chant.

“Voco daemonis ovulis Enepsigos subditi meum, et egredientur…….”

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Not One of My Father's Creatures

For a moment nothing at all happened. There was just Sam’s clear voice on the afternoon breeze. Then clouds began to gather and turn dark. The wind swept once more into stiff gusts that threatened to knock them off their feet.

“Raethaniel!” Castiel shouted, sounding irritated.

“It’s not me,” she shouted back.

Shadows seemed to rise in the clouds. Dean was certain he could feel things in the mist trying to touch them. Ghostly fingers seemed to grasp his wrist and pull him forward.

Dean could think of a hundred other things he would rather be doing, including a dentist appointment and changing a tire on the Impala.

The sun vanished behind the clouds of an ever-darkening sky. Castiel and Raethaniel moved in front of Sam and Dean, between the brothers and the lake. The shadows of two pairs of black wings lifted and spread against the roiling gray sky as the angels attempted to shield them.

The water churned and boiled, parting in a kind of petrified slow motion as a gigantic three headed dragon-snake rose in slow motion from the depths. It was a creature out of nightmares, glowing with an unholy light. Three heads thrashed on scaled arched necks. Part flesh and blood, part vapor, the heads darted and pulled back, jaws snapping. One head was nothing but the skull, white bone and vacant eye sockets. One was slowly decomposing, flesh hanging. Its jaws were filled with black and rotting teeth, blackened tongue lolling to the side, dead eyes staring. The final head was all too real. Saliva dripped from jaws filled with dagger-sharp teeth. Some of the dragon-snake was made of long strips of decayed and rotting flesh. Festering wounds oozed. Other parts were covered with blood. Its long sinuous body seemed to be shifting from one plane of existence to another, sometimes real, sometimes mist.

The stench of the grave filled the air. It continued to rise, undulating through the water as it came towards the shore. It appeared to have powerful flippers and a long thrashing tail with four large spikes on the end of it.

As the creature neared the shore, it paused just out of the shallows. The fully-formed head lunged forward, spitting a long stream of venom. Dean surged towards Sam and knocked him to the ground, rolling them over and out of the way. It threw off Sam’s chant and in the brief pause the creature spat at them again. The venom burned into the shore leaving a long smoking scar behind.

As they staggered upright again, Sam took up the incantation again. His words became more insistent, louder. Dean shook Sam away and raced for the open trunk of the Impala. He’d lost any faith he might have had that Solomon’s ring would protect Sam. Pulling an iron ax from its designated slot in the trunk he turned and ran back to stand in front of his brother.

Sam held up his right hand, clenched in a fist, the ring gleaming. The dragon-snake’s triple heads whipped back and forth in fury, hissing violently.

Castiel and Raethaniel were glowing, vibrantly blue. Pure energy was shooting in lightning streaks from both of them. Castiel aimed low at a single target – the creature’s festering, bleeding right hind flipper. Concentrating he carved a line through muscle and bone. Howling in rage the creature floundered in the shallow water. Raethaniel burned an open wound down the center of its chest.

The skull-head snaked forward and collided with the angels, sending them flying backwards. It then rocketed towards Sam and Dean, focused entirely on Dean. It bit down on Dean’s thigh, teeth sliding through flesh. Sam shrieked an order at it, telling it to stop and it began to pull back. On pure instinct and adrenaline, Dean swung the ax. The impact jarred pain all the way down his arms, but it was a well-aimed blow. It caught the creature in the exposed vertebrae of its skeletal neck and shattered the bone. The severed head flew off, tumbled through the air and landed with a thud at Sam’s feet.

Screaming in fury the festering head tried to snap at Dean and was met with a blast of energy from Castiel. Sam was no longer shouting the incantation. He was screaming in Latin, ordering the beast back into the lake, away from the shore. The wounded creature howled in frustration but backed into the water, dragging its useless third neck and wounded hind limb. Blood, dark red and black, poured from the chest wound. The two remaining heads swayed back and forth, red eyes filled with hate. Putrid breath filled the air, causing the brother to cough, gagging.

Then suddenly, a voice rang in Dean’s head. There was no sound. It was only in his head. Glancing at Sam he could tell that Sam could ‘hear’ it too. He was standing firm though. His voice was steady if not calm.

It wasn’t words, but the intent was clear. This spawn of evil wanted them all dead, but not quickly. This creature wanted pain and fear. It wanted struggle and blood. It wanted them howling in agony. It wanted to feast on their flesh.

Raethaniel was wrestling with the moldering center head. She had drawn her angel blade and as the mouth opened and came down she rose up to meet it. As the teeth snapped shut, she swung the blade in a downward arc, impaling the jaws and ripping it forward through the nose. Clinging to the blade she fell backwards, landing on her feet.

In the meantime, Castiel had moved in on the other head. His blade dove into the writhing neck. Blood spurted from ruined flesh, splattered the angel as he was flung back to earth by the dragon-snake. Castiel lay there, momentarily stunned. The creature, dripping blood, drew back to blast them with venom again. Dean barreled into Castiel just as the angel was trying to stagger back to his feet and rolled them out of the way just in time.

Venom blackened another crater into the beach as Sam and Raethaniel dove for safety.

“This is not one of our father’s creatures!” Castiel shouted.

“I believe I implied as much!” Raethaniel shouted back.

“We need to do more!” Castiel said. “Shield the Winchesters!”

As if she knew immediately what Castiel had planned Raethaniel turned and the shadow of her wings rose up higher.

“Come to me! Look away!” She commanded. Then she rose up off the ground and hovered over them, radiating blue light that shielded them. Though not normally good about taking orders, Sam and Dean got behind her and turned away, holding up their hands to cover their eyes. They knew firsthand the danger of looking at Castiel’s true form; and there didn’t seem to be any doubt that Castiel was about to assume his true form.

Then it was as if the beach and Castiel had become the center of the world. All light, all sound, all life was rushing eagerly towards him. The wind whispered, then moaned and at last began to swirl once again in wild gusts. He began to dissolve. His physical form vanished and in his place appeared a flaming shaft of light. It grew and spread until it was the embodiment of the sun. Sam and Dean had to clamp their eyes closed, arms up over their faces. Though they couldn’t see it, the pillar of fire rose and expanded.

It moved towards the creature, which rose up to confront it. But the pillar of fire caused the water to boil. The surviving heads, maddened with pain, reached out, trying to get to the shore.

“Sam!” Raethaniel cried, “Order it back into the water!”

Eyes squeezed shut, Sam shouted for it to retreat. Flashes of lightning poured out of Castiel. His true form was blazing with the wrath of Heaven and the creature could no longer stand against it.

Flashes of lightning struck the dragon-snake and steam rose off the boiling water. It screamed in agony, thrashing to avoid the jolts of flaming light. The Winchesters could hear its wails fading. The beast would die, and soon. It was already in its death throes. There was a thunderous crash and the light became so bright they could see it even behind their sealed eyelids.

There was the sound of an explosion and a stench more horrible than before filled the air. The shockwave knocked them off their feet. Sam fell over on top of Dean and Raethaniel was thrown from the air to land on top of them.

There was the sound of great chunks of the creature striking the beach. The light and wind gradually faded. The roaring sound of the flaming tornado that was Castiel died down.

Raethaniel dropped to the earth and landed on top of Sam and Dean. Exhausted she crawled off of them. The Winchesters rolled over to lie on their backs in the sand for a moment, stunned. Dean’s thigh wound was a blaze of agony. He clutched at it, ax forgotten at his side, breathing through his teeth.

“Dean!” Sam cried, struggling upright. His face was deathly pale and his eyes were stricken. Dean’s thigh was torn and ragged flesh, blood staining his ripped jeans.

But then Cas was there, normal Cas, the one they recognized in his suit and trench coat. He bent over them, looking anxious.

“Move,” he said, gently pushing Sam away. Then he pressed a hand over Dean’s leg and the pain vanished along with the wound. “You’ll be all right now.”

Dean gasped a few more times to get his breathing under control. “Thanks,” he said.

Sam collapsed again and rolled sideways, still too stunned to get up. Raethaniel was lying beside him. There were scratches bleeding on her face. A cut split her lower lip. Her eyes were open, staring up at the impossibly blue sky.

“Hey,” Sam said, gently, “Are you okay?”

He helped her sit up and then sat awkwardly beside her.

“Yes,” she said, shaking her head, “Enepsigos was much easier in hindsight. But I was charged to take her alive.” Then she paused and their eyes met for a moment and Sam felt as if she was seeing him for the first time.

“Was Enepsigos a three-headed snake?” He asked.

“No,” Raethaniel answered. “That must have been paternal DNA.”

“Well,” Sam said, with a sardonic twitch at the corners of his mouth, “Let’s hope daddy dearest is long departed. I wouldn’t want to run into something like that ever again. That sucked even for us.”

“You did well,” she said. She had not stopped looking at him the entire time, with those dark fathomless eyes.

Sam didn’t answer. He was exasperated by the look in her eyes because he didn’t know what it _meant._ He only knew that he was too exhausted to think about it. He was also bone-grateful that everyone was still alive and Dean wasn’t bleeding anymore.

But Sam couldn’t know or understand how he appeared to Raethaniel. He couldn’t know that to her, his eyes were like open wounds under his heavy brows; glass-green, storm-tossed eyes, clear yet strangely feral, like the deep ocean. He was nearly soaked, shirt plastered against muscles, long hair glistening black and dripping. Drenched jeans hugged inflexible thighs.

He was a tall powerfully built man who had just survived an epic battle with an apocalyptic creature. Young and strong, virile yet boyish….

She finally looked away but accepted the hand he offered her so they could stagger to their feet. Castiel and Dean were already upright, not clinging to each other but each with a hand out in case the other started to fall.

The beach around them was littered with blood and huge chunks of flesh and bone. Dean stared in great distress at the Impala. It was covered in ichor, the windshield shattered by what looked like a piece of femur.

“Oh, Baby,” Dean groaned.

“Raeth?” Cas rasped. His voice was always gravelly. At the moment it sounded as if it had been raked over hot coals. The angel was powerful but he was at the limit of what he could do.

Raethaniel waved a hand and in an instant, everything was pristine – the beach, the car, the valiant warriors themselves. All evidence of the creature and the battle that had destroyed it were gone. Even the ax, lying on the ground at Dean’s feet, was clean.

The Impala looked as if it had just been recently detailed. There wasn’t even sand on the tires anymore.

“Whoa,” Dean said in appreciation. He glanced respectfully at Raethaniel. “Thanks.”

There was nothing now but the peaceful blue skies, the gentle lapping of the calm lake against the sand. Seabirds wheeled overhead, calling softly.

“That,” Castiel said, again, “Was definitely not one of my father’s creatures.”

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Rearview Mirror

The scenic overlook was deserted this time of year, just as the town had been. Dean pulled into a center parking space, killed the engine and sat back in the seat for a moment.

Castiel was waiting for them by the tourist sign that described the lake and its history. The Winchesters doubted that the sign said anything about the lake having been used by an ancient she-demon as a spawning ground.

Sam was curious as they joined Castiel by the railing of the high ground above the lake. Dean didn’t walk there. He practically stalked. There was a frown between his brows and he was looking back and forth across the otherwise unoccupied parking lot as if he expected an ambush. A cold wind was blowing off the water and the ground was damp and slippery. Sam put his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders.

They stopped in front of the angel, both aware that they towered over him in his present appearance, especially Sam – who towered over most people in general, even hunched. But they had just been introduced to the fact that Castiel was 1100 feet tall and capable of boiling lake water.

“What’s this about?” Dean asked, sounding grouchy. “You know, because I’m pretty much _done_ here and I just want to put this lake in the rear view mirror.”

Castiel looked at them blankly. “I am certain that it would not fit there,” he said, “Not even I could-“

“It’s just a saying,” Sam interrupted. ”You said there was something you wanted us to see?”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, “But you must be quiet. They are shy, gentle creatures-“

“Sam.” The tone of shock in Dean’s voice as he broke up their conversation instantly got Sam’s attention.

He looked at Dean but Dean was staring out at the water, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

There was something rising out of the water, something long and slender, a sinuous body with flippers making huge ripples as it followed the shore.

“Holy shit,” Dean said. “You mean there’s something _else_ out here?”

“It’s not a monster,” Castiel said.

“It looks like a fucking monster,” Dean insisted.

“He said it was gentle,” Sam reminded him. He looked more fascinated than anything else.

“It’s just one of my father’s creations,” Castiel insisted, “It has never harmed anyone. Neither of them have.”

Dean was still staring at the dark shape, undulating through the water. He could see the shadowy shape just below the surface.

“Neither of them?” Sam repeated. “There’s more than one?”

Just then a dark head lifted out of the water. They could see the vaguely feline shape and long trailing whiskers.

“Mishipeshu,” Sam breathed.

“Yes,” Castiel agreed. “They were more common in China but that was long ago.”

The creature swung its head in their general direction. They could see nostrils flaring as it sniffed them. It had iridescent blue scales sparkling in the sunlight. A moment later another gray shape skimmed along beneath the surface, broke through the water alongside of the first one. It bumped against the other, rubbing heads playfully.

“Oh my god,” Sam went on, still sounding breathless, “All those reports of seeing them grappling with something – that was just the two of them playing, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, they sometimes forget where they are when they get wrestling too much. If we were on the beach, they might come closer. But I thought you might not like that,” Castiel said.

“Oh my god,” Sam murmured again.

“The Great Lakes were once their home. Now it is just these two and they tend to stay here in this more deserted section. They are very glad to have the demon gone. They are the last of their kind, though. All the ‘monsters’ that used to roam these waters are gone.”

Sam and Dean didn’t answer. They were too mesmerized by the creatures, who were now twining around each other. After a moment they dove beneath the waves again and with a final splash of tails they were gone.

“I wanted you to know that not all the huge creatures in the lakes are monsters or demons,” Castiel said. Now he sounded embarrassed and uncertain. “There are so few of them left. Loch Ness is empty now. Lake Champlain has only one left.”

“Wait,” Dean said, “You mean there really was a Loch Ness monster?”

Castiel shook his head. “Once, long ago. It has been gone for a long time.”

Sam let out a huff of laughter. Dean just snorted and shook his head. Then Sam looked seriously at the angel and said, “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, much less grouchy now.

Castiel seemed about to say something else and then got a suddenly distracted look on his face. “I have to go,” he said, and vanished with the sound of rustling leaves.

The brothers stood there gazing out at the still waters for a moment and then turned to look at each other.

“So,” Sam said.

“So,” Dean agreed. “You were right about the lake.”

“Yep,” Sam agreed.

“You wanna gloat?”

“Nope. Not this time. I’ll save it for some time when I’m really really wrong about something.”

“Good plan,” Dean agreed.

They turned and started back for the Impala.

“Where now?” Sam asked.

“There was that hotel in Kentucky that we read about yesterday morning,” Dean reminded him.

“The one that had the room where three people died in less than a month?”

“Yeah.”

Sam paused while opening the passenger door of the car. “Is it anywhere near a lake?” He asked.

“Lexington, Kentucky?” Dean said. He considered it and then frowned and shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

“Well then, let’s go,” Sam said.

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. New Assignments

The reason Castiel had to leave the brothers was an urgent message from Raethaniel. She had called to him on a very narrow thread, a 'spear' thread in the vernacular of the angels. He had answered immediately, traveling to where she was.

She was perched atop Angel Falls, sitting on a rocky outcrop with her legs hanging over the edge. The sound was thunderous. Mist was rising in spectral clouds. The view was spectacular.

Castiel stood there looking out over one of the most beautiful places on earth and then sat down beside her.

"A beautiful place," he commented.

"One of my favorites. When I come to earth I make sure to visit at least once."

"Truly some of our father's best work," Castiel agreed, "What do you need, Raethaniel?"

She looked down at her feet, dangling so precariously above the torrential waterfall.

"I have been given a new assignment," she said.

"You do not sound pleased," Castiel remarked.

Raethaniel looked at him sharply. "I wasn't aware that we were able to have any opinion at all about our assignments."

Castiel sighed. "I have recently been reminded of this," he admitted

Raethaniel gave him a narrow look. "You are dangerously close to rebellion, my brother," she commented gently.

Castiel was unusually silent after that. "This is still just a vessel, Raethaniel. I won't endanger it unnecessarily."

"There is a certain liberating feeling knowing that there is no human soul being threatened by your actions, though this form feels somehow confining after so many centuries in heaven." she nodded as she spoke. The original occupant of her vessel had perished in a fall into a crevasse while climbing Mt. McKinley. There had been no hope of rescue or of her body ever being found. She had surrendered it to Raethaniel willingly and was now climbing mountains of her own design in her own private heaven.

But for Raethaniel being female was a new experience. In fact, being in a vessel was a new experience, since her true form had served her better guarding the Gates in the Third Heaven.

Castiel made no reply to that at first and then he brought the conversation back to its beginning.

"What is your assignment?"

"I am to guard Samuel Winchester," she answered, eyes firmly on a scattering of rainbows glittering in the mist.

Castiel was so surprised he couldn't reply right away. "You've been reassigned as a guardian angel?"

It earned him another sharp look. "Yes," she said, tightly. "To one of the Winchesters. The _other_ Winchester, since you've already been assigned to guard Dean." He didn't deny it so she went on. "It explains why you've been sent to test him and have been watching him so closely."

"You saw that?" Castiel demanded.

"I have been watching Dean Winchester, since he is such a major factor in Sam's life. I was not spying on you. But it seemed obvious that you're now his guardian."

"I understand," Castiel said. Hesitantly because he didn't want to insult Raethaniel's new charge because Guardians could be defensive, he added, "You do know that Sam is on a very dark path?"

"Yes," she admitted, "Just as you know that I cannot do anything to interfere with his free will."

"Yes," Castiel sighed. "The Winchesters are a challenge. They run in when everyone else is running out. They face things that most people do not know even in their worst nightmares. Sam especially seems haunted by demons, driven to the point of self-destruction by guilt. Sam is the more devout brother; or he was until he discovered that the realms of heaven and hell are not as black and white as he always believed. Perhaps you can help him regain his faith."

"I am supposed to keep him from walking in front of a car or getting a splinter that causes an infection that goes to his heart and kills him; or slipping in the shower-"

"I understand the duties of a guardian, Raethaniel," Castiel interrupted.

She actually smiled a little, though it seemed sad. "And Dean?" She prompted. "What is he like?"

"Dean seems to be a simple man trapped in a complex world," Castiel answered. "He is going to be difficult to guard and harder to understand." He paused to consider something carefully before speaking again. "There is something going on. Something unclear but….. big. For heaven to suddenly be so concerned about the Winchesters that they are assigned Guardians, after all they have done….."

Raethaniel studied him, waiting.

"We are experiencing the beginning of the apocalypse, my brother," she said, finally. "There is already something big happening. The Winchesters are already involved. Your charge started it. Mine will be in the thick of it. Whatever is to come, it will not be easy."

This time a small smiled tugged at Castiel's mouth. "What has come before was not easy; nothing with the Winchesters ever is."

"So we try to keep them as safe as possible while staying out of each other's way and helping each other as much as possible."

Castiel nodded. "One way or the other," he said, "this is not going to be boring."

(0)

**A/N: If this goes as I think it will, this story will eventually stretch into season 11 and beyond and follow canon as much as possible, even though the addition of Raethaniel will make it an AU. As far as Castiel goes and the whole Dean/Castiel thing – you'll be able to read this either way. I don't particularly ship them, but this story is Sam-centric, so I won't be making a definite comment on Destiel one way or the other.**

 


	7. Righteous Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene prior to “Sex and Violence.’ Raethaniel finds out about Castiel’s threat at the end of ‘In the Beginning’.

Raethaniel was angry and, while they did not have the range of emotions possessed by human kind, a righteously angry angel was a thing to be feared.

“You threatened to kill him,” she said, through clenched teeth, which were currently sharp and fanged. She swung her elongated dragon head back and forth in agitation. Her tail lashed the grass.

Since Castiel was still in his vessel, she towered over him. He didn’t want a fight so he stayed as small as possible. In a true conflict, he wasn’t entirely sure he could defeat an angel of the Third Heaven, certainly not one with Raeth’s reputation. Truth be told however he was less afraid of her true form than he would have been had she drawn her angel blade. He had no wish for them to seriously harm each other. He knew that his greatest protection at the moment was the simple fact that – as an angel of the Seventh Heaven – he outranked her.

“Raethaniel you have to listen to me,” he said.

In reply she threw back her head and roared. Her true voice would have shattered every human for a thousand miles if there had been any. “Why?”

“Because the fastest way to save Sam Winchester is to make his brother think he is in danger.” Cas’s voice rose in defense.

She flared feathered wings and flattened the grass.

“He _is_ in danger,” Raethaniel answered. Her huge eyes were blazing with light.

“And has been before, many times, over the course of centuries,” Cas reminded her.

That seemed to calm her down. She lowered her wings and her tail stopped twitching.

“What do you mean?” She demanded.

“You spent all those centuries guarding the Gates of the Third Heaven and you did an admirable job. Nothing got in or out on your watch and many tried. You are one of the angels of the white fire, faithful servant of Baradiel and Anahiel-“

“I know who I am, and I know that you are Castiel of the Seventh Heaven, seat of God, Holiest of Holies, in the order of the Seraphim, faithful servant of the archangel Uriel. What has this to do with Sam and Dean Winchester?”

“We are the Watchers in the Seventh Heaven,” he explained, “and I have spent centuries watching the souls that are Sam and Dean Winchester. This is not the first time they have been on this plain of existence.”

“It isn’t?” The heavy brow ridges over her eyes rose.

“No. For some souls, Heaven is just too small to contain them for very long, no matter how content they appear. They have been father and son, friends, lovers, cousins. But since the first time they met they are always together and they are most often brothers. They are also always hunters. They agree to this, every time. They have never refused the call, not since the first time they were asked – Sam sometime in the fourteenth century and Dean not long after.”

“Do they remember any of this?” She asked.

“No soul ever does,” Castiel answered. “But this time, Azazel found out about them and interfered before they were even born. Sam is making dangerous choices-”

“But it is his free will!” She protested. “Heaven _cannot_ interfere with that. You are not free to kill Sam and Heaven would never have ordered you to do it! You know the rules and you know that Heaven does not want him dead.”

“Dean doesn’t know any of that,” Castiel said, “So I implied that he needed to find out what was going on; because I won’t be able to stop Sam and neither will you. But Dean Winchester…… Well, he’s the only one who has a chance of making Sam listen; and you’re wrong about one thing – Heaven may not want Sam dead but they want him stopped. Dean will stop him, by force is needed. But he won’t do him any permanent harm.”

She turned abruptly. Castiel ducked under her tail. She had a long mane of glittering gold scales that sparkled in the sun and clattered like a rain of diamonds when she moved. Her claws dug chunks out of the earth.

“Why do they want him stopped? He sends demons back to Hell and saves their victims. His own blood is already tainted.”

“No one told me why, Raeth. No one ever does. We are soldiers. We follow orders. We do not question them.”

“Says the angel who questions everything,” Raethaniel hissed at him. “Admit it, Castiel. You always have. I heard things, even stuck at the Gates. You spent a lot of time in the Second Heaven, visiting the fallen angels imprisoned there, talking to them, listening to them. Heaven may come to regret getting you involved with the Winchesters at all.”

Cas shrugged. “Perhaps. I suppose we will see.”

She swished her tail impatiently. Cas vanished and reappeared in front of her before she could accidentally knock him over.

“They are fighting. The brothers,” she said, “Now that Dean knows, he and Sam have had an argument. There is hostility and distrust where there was once love and loyalty.”

“The love and loyalty is still there.”

Her head lowered until she was inches from him. “Are you certain?”

“As certain as I can be. They will get through this. Dean will stop him.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I won’t allow you to kill Sam,” she said. “I’ve been charged with protecting him and that is what I intend to do no matter what – _or who_ – threatens him.”

“I don’t want to fight with you, Raeth,” Castiel said, “We’re on the same side. Our methods may be different, but we _are_ on the same side.”

“Is this the same as when you told Dean you were going to destroy an entire town just to see what he would do?”

“That actually _was_ orders, though I knew what he was going to do. The Winchesters are on a hunt at the moment. We should be watching over them and seeing how this plays out; not standing here in Outer Mongolia threatening each other. You’re scaring the native wildlife.”

The dragon vanished and in its place stood the human vessel with the flowing wheat blond hair and brown/gold eyes.

“What are they hunting?”

“Sirens,” Castiel answered.

Raeth wrinkled her nose. “Nasty business, those,” she commented.

“So let’s go watch over them,” Castiel suggested, “unless you’d still like to attempt eating me.”

“You’re made of fire,” she answered.

“So?”

“You’ll give me heartburn.”

Castiel stared at her for a moment. “Did you just make a joke? Was that intended to be humorous?”

“I thought it was,” she said. Then she grinned at him, confirming the rumors of her mercurial moods, just before vanishing.

 _Dragons,_ Castiel sighed just before he followed her.


	8. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road, prior to Death Takes a Holiday.

They were somewhere just over the South Dakota border on Interstate 90, driving from Iowa to Wyoming in pursuit of another possible connection to the seals being broken. They had pulled off exit 48 and gotten a room at the Ramada Inn. The nice thing about South Dakota in the off-season was that even the nice hotels were cheap. Plus Sam had gone online and booked the room using a promo code that made it even cheaper. It meant clean towels and decent water pressure, an unlimited supply of hot water even.

It also meant two gigantic queen beds, so they could sleep so far apart they were practically on the other side of the room from each other. The motel itself had a bar and slot machines too. Dean had exited the room almost as soon as he had entered, dropping his duffle bag on the bed closest to the door and leaving again without a word.

Sam sighed, grabbed a quick shower, changed and left the room, intent on the 24-hour diner across the street and something large and hot for dinner. He got as far as the end of the building, turned the corner and ran straight into Raethaniel.

His hunter reflexes made him jump back, his hand reaching for the knife hidden under his shirt.

“Raethaniel,” he said, exhaling in relief.

She smiled uncertainly. “Raeth will do,” she offered, “I know it’s confusing since it rhymes with something that hunters usually kill-“

“Wait,” he said, “Wraiths? They exist?”

“Yes,” she answered, eyes wide. “You just haven’t encountered any. There’s probably something in your father’s journal about them.”

“No, I’d have read it. I’ve read the thing cover to cover. Umm, how do you know about my father’s journal?”

Instead of answered she asked, “Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”

“I was about to get dinner. The restaurant is probably empty this time of night. Will that do?”

“Yes.”

Instinctively, Sam put his hand in the center of her back to guide her to the crosswalk. Usually he was immune to casual touch. But this time the point of contact felt anything but casual. It felt important, a rush of energy similar to the one he’d felt from the ring of Solomon.

Raeth glanced at him and he knew she had felt it too.

They crossed the street against the light but there was no real traffic. A single car made them wait, hovering on the yellow line, until it had passed. Then they ran for the diner.

As he had predicted the place was practically deserted. They got a welcoming smile from the neatly uniformed server.

“Sit wherever you like,” she said, “Be right with you.”

Sam chose a booth in the extreme far corner of the diner, away from the two other occupied tables. He felt kind of bad making their server walk that far, but he sensed their conversation was going to be about all things supernatural. Therefore, it was better not to sit somewhere they could be overheard.

Sam shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the hooks attached to the seats. He indicated her jacket with a lift of his eyebrows. Raethaniel hesitated a moment and then took it off, along with her scarf. Under it she was wearing a light blue cable knit sweater.

With his well-honed peripheral vision, Sam admired the way the sweater fit for a moment; then he felt guilty about staring at an angel. So he opened a menu and scanned it.

“Order whatever you want,” he said.

“So you can pay with a stolen credit card?”

Sam glanced at her sharply. “Shh,” he cautioned. “But no. I have cash. Gambling is legal in this state and I hit a casino with Dean last night.”

“Gambling?” She said.

“Yeah,” Sam admitted, “I know this might be hard for you to take in.”

Raeth reached for a menu. “I have been a guardian of the third Heaven for millennia. I’ll just say things have changed.”

“Look,” Sam said, setting the menu aside and leaning forward, folding his arms on the laminate table. “I’m a hunter. I’ve accepted that. But I don’t get paid for this and I live in a society that demands money in exchange for food and shelter. If you have some suggestions about how to fix that without resorting to less savory means, then please tell me.”

“It wasn’t a judgment,” she protested. “I’m just trying to figure out this new world I’m dealing with.”

“I thought you were going back to hea- Back home.”

“No. That’s been postponed.”

Sam was prevented from asking why when their server arrived. He asked a few questions about some of the things offered, earning him a few frowns from their server. But he settled on a turkey club sandwich (with real turkey breast) on whole wheat toast, a salad with dressing on the side and a fruit cup.

“What do you want?” He asked Raeth.

After a pause she said, “Can I just have the same?”

Their server said, “Sure. Couple of decafs to go with that?”

“I’ll just have water,” Sam said.

“Water is fine,” Raeth agreed.

“Coming right up.” With that the woman left and headed towards the kitchen.

Sam put the menus back in the little holder behind the condiments and salt and pepper.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Sam asked. “Is it whatever has kept you from going back home?”

“I was never going back home,” she answered. “I’ve been given new orders that will keep me here for a while.”

“New orders? From that same very high source?”

“As far as I know, yes.”

“Can I ask what they are?”

Raeth waited because their server returned with tall glasses of ice water. Sam gave a nod of gratitude before she walked away.

“You’re very nice to her,” Raeth observed.

“It’s just good manners,” Sam said, “I may be a hunter but I try not to be a jerk.”

“She serves you.”

“It’s her job. Doesn’t mean she’s less than I am.”

Raeth sipped her water and considered that. “At home there is a hierarchy that is strictly adhered to. None of my superiors would be required to treat me with anything but indifference and I would not consider questioning that.”

“We’re not in- your home.”

“That much is obvious,” she said. “But things at home seem to be changing.”

“What do you mean? Sam asked sharply.

But Raethaniel already looked as if she regretted the words. “Nothing I’d be prepared to elaborate on at the moment. Please forget I said anything.”

Sam studied her carefully and nodded, even though he knew better than to ever forget anything anyone said to him. “So why are you still here and why do you need to talk to me?”

“I have been assigned to you.”

“Assigned to me?”

“As a guardian.”

Sam looked off to the side, thinking about that, pondering it, and when it sank in his mouth was pulled by a series of short smiles that ended with an exhale of laughter.

“What? A guardian? You’re my guardian angel now?” he laughed a little bit more, looking amused and incredulous.

Raeth’s eyes – still an impossible combination of every shade of brown and gold imaginable- narrowed dangerously. “I take this very seriously, Sam.”

He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m taking it seriously too. I mean you’re the first angel I’ve ever met who actually looks the way I always pictured them and now you’re my guardian. It’s like one of those pictures they put in kids’ nurseries. You know – the little kid walking in a field with flowers with an angel in a white robe and flowing blond hair floating behind him?”

“You are _not_ a little kid,” she pointed out, “and I am not wearing a white robe.”

Sam grinned again. But he was still looking at her with those incredible eyes, which were somehow more gray/blue this time, a fragment of stormy skies. They were still deep and intelligent eyes and somehow even more striking now, when they were lit with humor. Raethaniel found that she was looking into those eyes for longer than was absolutely necessary.

Their food arrived and Sam dug into it because he hadn’t eaten since having a peanut butter sandwich in the Impala hours ago.

He was about halfway through his sandwich and salad when he paused to ask. “How is yours? What do you think?”

She chewed thoughtfully. “I am not certain that I taste things the way you do; and I don’t actually need to eat. This is more curiosity. But I think it is….. good.”

“Okay,” Sam said, feeling unreasonably pleased. “So how does this guardian thing work?”

“I protect you from accidents.”

“Can you help when I’m hunting?”

“Only in a limited way,” she told him.

“Like how?” Sam demanded.

She leaned forward, imitating the way he had folded his arms on the table.

“Do you remember waking up in the closet when you were hunting the rugaru?”

“Yes. That was you?”

“Yes.”

“You couldn’t have opened the closet door too?”

“I’m not allowed to do things for you that you can do for yourself, or to stop you from doing things that are your own free choice. You were capable of getting out of the closet, either by picking the lock or just kicking the door out.”

Sam considered that. It seemed reasonable. He didn’t mind the idea of someone making sure he didn’t cut himself with a steak knife. But he got enough of being treated like a child from his brother.

“Okay, so fine,” he shrugged, and then finished off the mostly-melon fruit cup.

“I also moved the chain closer to you when you went after the buruburu, so that it was within your reach. I’m also allowed to give you advice,” she said.

That made the humor fade from his eyes. “Like what?”

“You never have to take it.”

“Fine. Like what?”

“Try to fix whatever is wrong between you and Dean. There is a faction that would like nothing more than to bring this world to its knees with the apocalypse. They are trying to put a wedge between the two of you. They are also trying to undermine your brother’s confidence and there is no better way to do that than to make him think you don’t believe in him.”

“They? You mean demons?”

Raeth looked down at her plate. “Perhaps, yes. But….”

Sam frowned in confusion. “You don’t mean angels would try to start the apocalypse?”

“I told you I am not prepared to discuss that right now. I need more information and that will be difficult if I am following you constantly.”

“I don’t mean to complicate your life,” Sam said, drily, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not that,” she said, quickly. “You come first. My orders are to keep you alive as best I can and I intend to do that. I shouldn’t even be thinking about doing anything else. It’s close to-“

She broke off and Sam supplied helpfully, “Blasphemy?”

“Yes,” she said, seriously, looking miserable. “I don’t have any right to ask anything of you, Sam. You barely know me. But we need both of you to be strong right now and you’re never strong when you’re fighting with each other. I know you love your brother. Just try to make it right?”

Sam shrugged. But he’d already decided to try. It never felt good when he was mad at Dean, or vice versa and certainly not when the anger was mutual.

“Okay, I’ll try; and we will get over it, eventually. It just depends on how stubborn he decides to be.”

“And you think he’ll be stubborn?”

Sam snorted. “Stubborn is Dean’s super power,” he said and there was no mistaking the genuine affection under the exasperation in his voice. “I think he was kicked by a radioactive mule at some point.”

Raeth stared at him blankly. “I don’t understand.”

Sam stared back. There was something about her that made him forget she literally wasn’t from around here. She was easy to talk to, not arrogant or condescending. The fact that she would readily admit there were things she didn’t know or understand helped too. Maybe Castiel was right and all angels weren’t dicks.

“It’s a comic book reference. Super heroes.”

She shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”

“Okay,” Sam said, “Look, after we’re done eating we can go to the convenience store on the corner and I bet they have comic books. I’ll get some and we can go back to the room and I’ll try to explain.”

“You mean just stay with you, in your room?”

“Yeah. You’re supposed to watch over me, right?” When she nodded, he went on, “So, that doesn’t mean you can’t hang out with me. Right? In fact, I’m thinking it’s easier to watch over me if you’re right there in the room.”

“I guess it doesn’t,” she admitted.

Sam took a shot at explaining the super hero culture to her as they finished eating. Then he signaled their server again.

“Can I get you some desert?” She asked upon arriving at their table.

“I see you have pies in the case?” Sam asked.

She smiled and rattled off an impressive assortment of flavors. When she was done, Sam said,

“Well take one apple, one cherry and one chocolate cream, to go. I’ll also need your biggest cheeseburger with everything you have on it, a giant pile of fries and the check, please.”

“You got it,” their server said and left them alone again.

“Is all that pie for us?” Raethaniel asked.

“No,” Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Though I can probably get you a slice of one if you want to try it. They’re for Dean – a peace offering. By the time he finishes the second one at breakfast tomorrow, we’ll be friends again.”

“I see,” she nodded. “Will it work?”

Sam grinned again. “Yeah,” he said. “It’ll work. We’ll have to postpone the trip to the comic book store. I’ll need to get that burger to Dean while it’s still hot.”

“What if he’s already eaten?”

Sam snorted and shook his head. “You don’t know my brother. Dean is _always_ hungry. Besides, he’s a Winchester. We eat whenever food is available.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she hesitated and then pushed her plate towards him. There was still half a sandwich and most of the cantaloupe and melon on it. “Do you want to finish this?”

“Are you sure you’re done?”

“Yes. Eating is more experimental for me, and besides, you paid for it. It was good, but I don’t want to waste it.”

Sam eagerly picked the plate up and pushed his to the side to make room. He tried to ignore the way it made him feel. It wasn’t like this was a ‘date’ but it was starting to seem like it. Eating the rest of her food seemed like something too intimate. But he was practical about food and he had just told her that Winchesters ate whatever was available.

And he was still hungry. He wondered if she knew that, if being his guardian meant she could read his mind.

She smiled and said, “No.”

“No?”

“I can’t read your mind,” she said.

“Then how did you just do that?” He wanted to be upset and found that he couldn’t. He was fighting another smile.

“A lot of what you think is on your face. You’re easy to ‘read’ but there’s nothing psychic about it.”

“Okay,” Sam said, “I can live with that.”

“That’s what I am here to help you do,” his guardian angel answered.


	9. Londyn Cuddington

Dean was sitting at the small round table by the window of their motel room, leaning forward taking large bites out of his cheeseburger, dripping bits of sauce and shredded lettuce onto the paper it had been wrapped in. He had been oddly silent while listening to Raethaniel explain – at Sam’s insistence – that she was now Sam’s guardian angel.

It wasn’t that he was really a sloppy eater. He was just paying attention to what Raethaniel was saying while appearing to not pay attention to it all.

One of Dean’s strength’s was the ability to appear stupider than he really was. It made people under estimate him; and he was very good at judging exactly who he wanted under estimating him.

Sam was sitting across the table from him with his laptop open, watching Dean eat with indulgent exasperation. He wasn’t sure that Dean’s ‘gruff and uneducated’ ploy was going to work with an angel; and especially not one who kept reminding them that all of heaven knew who they were.

At least he and Dean were in the same room, speaking to each other and the ghost of the things they had said were salted and burned.

After Raeth was done Dean just sat there, frowning in concentration and eating his burger. When it seemed quite obvious he wasn’t going to say anything, Raethaniel looked at Sam in bewilderment.

“Has he forgotten how to speak?” She asked.

Sam’s smile was small and indulgent, a little apologetic. He understood the silence. It was just Dean examining and re-examining what he had just learned. He wouldn’t comment at all until he had thought about it inside the box, then outside the box and then from so far out he could no longer see the box.

“No, he’ll get there and we’ll probably regret it when he does. Let him finish eating,” Sam suggested.

Raethaniel settled down a little bit more on the bed. She was sitting against the headboard, legs straight in front of her. When she pushed back further, Sam swore he heard the flutter of wings.

Dean ate the whole burger, licked his fingers, and then ate every last French fry. Finally he sat back in the chair and drained the last bit out of the bottle of Dr. Pepper Sam had gotten him from the machine at the end of the hall.

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” he said, “You’re my brother’s guardian angel?”

Raeth looked incredulous and then turned to Sam again. “Was he not listening?”

“Humor him,” Sam advised.

“Yes,” she told Dean.

“Forever and ever?”

“Yes,” she answered.

Dean got a wicked glint in his eyes and looked at Sam as he said, “Til death do you part?”

“If I do my job correctly that won’t happen for a long time,” she shot back as Sam rolled his eyes.

The glint died as if Dean had gotten exactly what he wanted out of the ploy. He looked much too pleased with himself. “So how does this sound to your host? What happens to her? You just drag her around with you while you watch to make sure Sam doesn’t slip in the shower?”

“Dean,” Sam said, exasperated.

Dean never asked an idle question and he knew exactly how to ask to get what he wanted. He could be smooth as silk, charming, asking questions in a way that assured he was going to get all the answers he needed. But Dean also had a way of asking questions that could be guaranteed to piss someone off. It was an attempt to draw out answers the person might not have been prepared to give.

It didn’t work with Raethaniel. She just calmly regarded him.

“I want an answer,” Dean said, “Just who are you wearing this year?”

Raethaniel took a deep breath and sounded sad when she answered, “Her name was Londyn Cuddington. She lived in Hartford Connecticut and was the assistant editor of a local newspaper there. She loved the outdoors. She loved kayaking and backpacking and hiking. She loved the White Mountains of Vermont. She was adept at free climbing.” She stopped to look up at Sam. “I think you would have liked her. She was very smart and lived a very healthy lifestyle.”

Dean snorted derisively. Sam had started typing into his laptop when she was talking but now he looked up and smiled a little sadly. “I don’t exactly live a healthy lifestyle,” Sam said.

“The service you render to humanity is dangerous,” Raeth agreed. “But you exercise and you are careful about what you eat.”

Sam shrugged and looked embarrassed.

“You keep using the word ‘was’,” Dean interrupted. He was still looking unusually gruff.

“Yes, she’s no longer here.”

“What happened to her?”

“She was on an expedition in Alaska, climbing Mt. McKinley. There was an accident. She fell and was lost. There was no hope of rescue. She was facing a long, painful death from injuries, starvation and dehydration. I appeared and asked if she would be my vessel. Ultimately she chose to move on, allowing me to continue without her.”

“What, you couldn’t just zap her out of there?” Dean asked, “Seems like a pretty simple miracle for an angel of the lord.”

Raethaniel looked at Sam helplessly.

“It’s a fair question,” Sam said, earning him a look from Dean that was at first stunned and then satisfied.

The angel looked mystified for a while, staring into space.

“Look,” Sam said, “I think we’ve run into a kind of cultural disconnect between angels and humanity. Just pretend we’re dumb. My brother wants you to think he is, but we’re really not, neither of us.”

“All right,” she said, “Londyn chose this life. She chose to climb a mountain and she knew the risks. I can only do so much to alter the consequences of someone’s free will. She could have also chosen to stay until I was finished with my mission. But she didn’t. She chose heaven.”

“So how much are you really going to be able to do to protect Sammy?” Dean wanted to know. “Pretty much everything he does is his free will.”

“I will do whatever I can to protect him when hunting monsters. When demons are involved I am free to do whatever I want and whatever is necessary; and I won’t have to spy on him in the shower. If he slips, I’ll know,” she paused and sat up straighter, leveling a gaze at Dean that made it clear exactly who and what she was.

Dean hadn’t backed down from a three-headed demonic snake. So he didn’t back down now.

“Well if you want to watch over my baby brother I don’t really have any objection to that,” Dean said, “as long as it’s really just you in there.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Sam said. He’d gone back to typing into the internet and now he turned it to show Dean.

“Londyn Cuddington,” he said and the picture on the screen matched the woman in their room. “Died 6 months ago, climbing Mt. McKinley, only child, survived by an aunt and uncle and some cousins.”

Dean studied the image carefully and then looked back at the angel. Finally, satisfied, he shrugged and his expression said, _I’ll be damned._

Raeth stood up and as she did the shadow of an enormous pair of wings appeared briefly on the walls and ceiling behind her. She was considerably shorter than either of them, no more than 5’7’. But for a split second it seemed she dwarfed them both. Sam blinked in surprise and the illusion was gone.

To Dean she said, “I don’t need your permission to do any of this. As you pointed out, I am an angel of the Lord.” Then she turned to Sam, “Would you take a walk with me? I’d like to talk to you about something else, in private.”

Dean’s gruff demeanor faded. The look in his eyes now was teasing and borderline raunchy.

“In private, huh?” He said, winking at Sam.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam said. He stood up and grabbed his coat off the hanger by the door. “Don’t use the laptop to watch porn while I’m gone. That’s what the TV is for.”

If he had wanted Dean to look indignant he was disappointed. Dean just looked smug.

Sam started to reach for Raethaniel’s black coat but it was gone. Turning around he found her waiting for him, in her coat and scarf.

“You’re going to take some getting used to,” he said.

She didn’t answer, just blinked at him with wide brown-eyes that were suddenly dark and fathomless. He opened the door and ushered her out ahead of him. Just before he shut it, Dean hollered, “Have him back by midnight.”

“Is he joking?” Raeth asked.

“No, he’s just an ass,” Sam answered. As he shut the door he reiterated loudly, “Stay off my laptop!”

(0)


	10. An Angel and a Demon

The sun was gone and the nights in South Dakota were cold. Sam tucked his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders a little.

“What did you want to talk about?” He asked.

Raethaniel hesitated. “That store on the corner is still open.”

“It’s a 24-hour convenience store,” he explained, “They’re always open. But did you really drag me out into the cold to go buy you comic books?”

“Not exactly, but I would still like to know.”

Sam watched her from his peripheral vision. He’d read enough fantasy books in his life to have formed an opinion about dragons. They were very powerful, very protective, very independent (though he didn’t know how that worked with an angel who had no real free will), and _very_ curious. Pretty much overgrown house cats, in Sam’s opinion.

He’d never imagined being guarded by a house cat. But then he had never imagined a lot of things and all of those had turned out to be true.

They entered the store and went to the spinning rack of magazines. Then they spent 10 minutes trying to pick some out, finally settling on a sampling of _Avengers, Spiderman_ and _Justice League._

“So now we need to find a place to read these. You want to go back to the room?”

“No,” she said.

In the next moment they were standing in a park, beside a bench at a playground.

Sam blinked, utterly disoriented – not for the first time in his life, but it still wasn’t a feeling he enjoyed. He started to protest but she must have seen it in his face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, immediately. “I can take us back.”

Sam grabbed her arm. “No. I just don’t like not knowing where I am,” and it meant _how far away I am from brother_ and she knew it.

“The motel is 4 blocks in that direction,” she said. “An easy walk; and I am sorry. I won’t do it again without your permission.”

Sam forced a smile. “It’s okay. Let’s sit down.”

The bench was cold and Sam shivered a little, wishing for a warmer coat. He was going to have to find one while they still had the money from the casino.

“I can help with that,” Raeth said, sitting down on the bench.

“With what?” Sam asked, wondering about the mind-reading thing.

Instead of answering, Raethaniel took his hand in hers and squeezed. Warmth spread between them, suffused him all the way to his bones. His insides warmed, his hands and feet and nose warmed.

“Better?” She asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted in a soft exhale. His breath frosted briefly in the air. “Is that part of watching out for me?”

“I wouldn’t want you to get sick because I dragged you out in the cold.”

It sounded teasing, like humor. Sam looked at her, confused and intrigued.

“Tell me about these,” she said, changing the subject.

Warm and distracted and feeling more relaxed than he had in a while, Sam explained the back stories of all the Avengers and most of the Justice League and when he explained about Spiderman she finally understood his ‘radioactive mule’ comment and when she laughed he heard silver bells and the patter of sparkling raindrops.

They got to the end of the lesson in comic books and Sam set them on the bench beside him.

“Okay, so why are we out here? Before my brother comes looking for us.”

“Heaven knows what you’re doing, Sam,” she said, softly, as if walking on eggshells, “and Heaven wants you to stop.”

“What I’m doing?” He repeated with his very best innocent look.

“With Ruby,” the words fell cold and hard as stone on a frozen lake.

Sam got up abruptly, unfolded all the miles of his long body until he was on his feet. He took a few steps away from her and then turned.

“Is that why you’re really here?” He demanded. His hands had balled into fists so tight the veins were showing.

“No. Everything I told you is the truth as I know it. I can’t lie to you, not even to protect you. I _shouldn’t_ even be telling you this. I have no idea if there will be consequences for it-“

“So what?” Sam cut in, “I’m supposed to feel _sorry_ for you.”

“No!” Raethaniel stood up but didn’t come closer to him. “You’re supposed to stop!”

“Why!?”

“Because that’s what Heaven wants!”

“Well you know what? _Fuck what heaven wants!”_ Sam Winchester rarely shouted, but when he did, it was impressive.

Raethaniel seemed momentarily shocked. The concept of rejecting what heaven wanted was too large for her to grasp.

“Sam,” she began.

But he was angry now and on a roll. “No, I mean it. I don’t even know or understand what heaven wants anymore. What I know is that I’m helping people, more people than I ever have before. What I know is that I prayed to heaven and to angels for _all_ of my life and what finally answered wasn’t _anything_ that I thought it was going to be. What I know is that this is all for a greater, more important purpose.”

“A _demon’s_ purpose!”

“I don’t care anymore! I don’t even see a difference between angels and demons anymore!”

“Heaven’s methods may seem evil at times but Heaven’s purpose never is.”

“Oh really? Why don’t you ask Anna about that? And if your purpose is always so noble why did you _leave my brother in Hell for so long?”_

The words were a gale-force storm of repressed anger. It shook them both but it was Sam who finally looked away.

“If you say ‘bigger picture’ I will scream,” he finished, much too quietly.

“I wasn’t going to,” she said. His pain tore at her in ways she could just not begin to understand. The need to touch him was as real as the cold air around her. “Sam, I promise you that I will do anything and everything I can to find an answer to that question. But until I do would you also promise me that you’ll try to stop meeting Ruby? I can’t begin to guess what a demon’s purpose might be but I doubt she has your best interests at heart.”

The muscles along his jaw rippled as he clenched his teeth. “She’s helped us, many times. Is it so hard to believe that Hell and Earth might have a common goal?”

“Yes,” she answered, “Demons are never altruistic, Sam. It’s not their nature. They never promise anything without a hidden agenda. It always sounds good, but then there is something they aren’t saying. Their favors always come with a price. You of all people should know that. Please, Sam. Can you stop just while I try to find out more answers?”

Some of the tension ran out of his shoulders. He made a helpless gesture with his hands. “I feel like I’m in another cartoon, a looney tune, with an angel whispering something into one ear and a demon whispering something different in the other.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Is that another comic book?”

“No,” Sam sighed, “It’s a show on television.”

Raeth smiled sadly. “I wish I understood, Sam. I _do._ But can I ask a question?”

“Sure,” Sam looked as if he had gone from anger straight to _what the hell_ surrender.

“In those… _cartoons_ about the angel and demon, which one is usually right?”

Sam didn’t answer. He just shoved his hands in his pockets and stared off into the distance.

In the direction of the motel, Raethaniel noted.

“I’ll send you back,” she said.

“No, Raeth wait,” Sam began, but then he was standing in front of the door of their motel room with his key card already in his hand.

 _“Dammit,”_ he muttered under his breath. He looked upwards and said, “Raeth! Can we talk about this more?” There was silence. “Raethaniel!”

When she didn’t appear he muttered again and opened the motel room door.

Dean was stretched out on one of the beds in his underwear, watching SNL. Sam didn’t speak. He went to the bathroom and took a shower, got into a clean pair of boxers, brushed his teeth and then crawled into the other bed with his back to his brother and the covers up almost over his head.

He stayed there with teeth clenched waiting for Dean to make some smart-assed comment, hoping he wouldn’t and needing to lash out if he did.

When nothing happened, he began to relax. When Dean shut the TV off and then the light and Sam heard him settle down and sigh the way Dean always sighed just before he fell asleep, he finally gave up and closed his eyes.

A moment later he swore he heard the rustle of wings in the room and opened his eyes again. But the room was still and quiet and obviously empty of angels.

Sam groaned, moved into a cooler part of the sheets and fell asleep.

(0)

**A/N: Raethaniel is based on the actual story of an angel with that name who can be found in several ancient writings. The backstory of demon-hunting, Enepsigos and Solomon is ‘true’, not something that I made up. The hierarchies of heaven is also based on my readings of extra-Biblical, extra-Tanach sources. The angel Raethaniel really is written to be a servant of the Third Heaven and in the garrison of Baradiel, a seraph. The angel ‘Cassiel’ is found in the Seventh Heaven. Cassiel can also be called: Casiel, Cassiel, Castiel, Castael, Mocoton, Kaziel, Qafsiel, Qaphsiel, Qaspiel, Quaphsiel. He is also known as the angel of temperance. He is the angel of Saturn and of Thursday. In the Kabbalah Cassiel is an archangel.**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. The Third Heaven

There were now two angels guarding the Gates of the Third Heaven – Lamechiel, whose form was a ram with four golden horns, and Peniel, who was a towering spinning water spout full of lightning. They were from her garrison and equal to her in rank and power.

They recognized Raethaniel and greeted her with a slight bow.

“Brothers,” she said, her voice echoing on the celestial wavelength they shared.

“Sister,” they replied, as they swung open the Gates.

At one time Raethaniel would not have thought to question why the Gates of the Third Heaven suddenly needed two high-ranking and powerful angels guarding the entrance when one had been enough for millennia.

Dalquiel – the Great Bear and angel prince of the Third Heaven – met her on the other side of the Gates. Raethaniel, in her dragon form, was dwarfed by the Bear and she lowered her head in humble respect.

“Dalquiel,” she whispered.

He offered her no greeting. He just informed her, “She’s agreed to see you.”

‘She’ was Anahiel, ruler of the Third Heaven, Seraphim, one of the Archons who had been created by Adonai, who had existed from the beginning and was subservient only to the archangels.

Raethaniel felt a rush of gratitude but kept it controlled. She followed Dalquiel through the realm she had once called home to the foot of a mountain.

“I’ll leave you here. You know the way,” he said, and then vanished.

Raethaniel spread her wings and flew to the top of the mountain, where she found the sole occupant waiting for her.

Anahiel was in her vessel, a lovely middle-aged woman with pale skin and flowing black hair, soft grey eyes and iridescent ebony wings that arched high above her head and then streamed down to form a long train of feathers behind her.

Raethaniel abandoned her true form in favor of her vessel, without the need to display her wings. That would be a definite breach of Protocol.

She dropped to her knees and waited.

“Why are you here, Raethaniel? Shouldn’t you be watching your charge?” Anahiel asked without preamble.

“Be assured that I am,” she answered.

“Then what is it you seek?”

“I have a question.”

Up until this point Anahiel had no deigned to so much look at her. But now the ruler of the Third Heaven turned and examined Raeth as if she was some peculiar knew species.

“You are questioning your orders?”

“No. I need an explanation of the parameters.”

“Go on.”

“For millennia I was a demon hunter. A demon such as this Ruby – who _is_ admittedly strong – would still be no match for me. If she is such a danger to Sam Winchester why am I being forbidden from simply eliminating her?”

“Is he not seeking her of his own free will?”

“Now he is, but not initially. She sought him. She tempted him and he is surrendering to that temptation. We have intervened before. When the sons of Noah were being tempted we drove them out. Why am I forbidden from stopping this one from corrupting Sam?”

Anahiel considered her for a long time and then walked over to peer over the side of the mountain at the misty realm of the Third Heaven spread at their feet.

“I am curious, Raethaniel,” she said after a long pause, “Do you believe your orders came from me?”

Raeth blinked. “The idea that anything pertaining to me would come from higher than you is a concept that I cannot quite grasp. Are you saying this is from one of the archangels?”

“You’ve been asked to guard and protect one of the Winchesters, who have been groomed for centuries for the task they are about to be set. Do you really think that has anything to do with me?”

Astonishment was a new experience for Raeth. “Then why does it have anything to do with _me_? These orders-“

“Came from Michael,” Anahiel interrupted forcefully.

Even the utterance of his name was enough to make Raeth close her eyes and bow her head even further.

“How can that be?” She asked softly.

“You dare question Michael now too?”

“No!” She looked up quickly so that Anahiel would see the truth of that in her eyes. “Not his orders, but why I should be worthy of them.”

“Raethaniel, I would not stare too close at any of this if I were you. This is from Michael and, to a certain extent Araquiel,” Anahiel advised. “Do your job, as best you can, within the parameters you have been set. But remember what your name means and stay close to that.”

 _Mystery of God,_ Raeth thought. But she made no further protests. She was under the orders of Michael himself, and Araquiel, the archangel guardian of Earth. She stood up.

“Is there anything else you need?” Anahiel asked and when Raeth simply shook her head, she went on, “Go back to Sam Winchester and watch over him. This is your task and this alone. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Raeth replied and felt as if she was admitting to more than she should.

Anahiel went back to staring out over her realm. Raeth recognized it for the dismissal that it was.

She reverted to her true form and flew back down to the Gates, which were opened for her without a word. As she began her descent back to earth she heard the Gates closing behind her and wondered if she would ever see her home again.

(0)

**A/N: Again, all of this is based on researched angel-lore. As a side note, while doing this research I discovered an angel named ‘Sabriel’, who is mentioned with Raethaniel in the Testament of Solomon and recognized there as one of the archangels. His name means ‘Patience of God’ (which I am sure was seriously tested by the Trickster.)**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Who's Crying Now

They took a slight detour on the way to Greybull, Wyoming when Dean caught a news report that sounded like a murder/suicide from fifteen years previous suddenly coming back with a vengeance. They turned south off Route 26 onto Route 287 and Dean gunned the engine when he found the road was mostly deserted.

Sam settled back as far as he could in the front seat, which was never far enough. His knees were always bent too far and Dean hated it when he put his feet on the dashboard (and so had Dad when he thought about it.)

In the days that had followed Sam’s confrontation with Raeth he had met with Ruby two more times and he could feel the power growing like a strangling vine. It was something dark and awe-inspiring, feeding off the rich fertilizer of his estrangement from Dean. Loneliness had grown with it, creeping into moments that used to be safe: long stretches of road in the car, working in silence together on a hunt, overcast days and long warm sunny ones. Moments of lightness still broke through, when Dean could make him laugh; or when remember that this was still the brother he would die for.

Like when Dean was working on the car and managed to open a gash on the top of his arm that went almost to the bone and poured blood all over his precious Baby. Sam poured peroxide over the wound and watched as it foamed and sizzled. For good measure he’d tossed some whiskey over it and that had momentarily bent Dean over double, his face on Sam’s leg, cursing into denim. Then he had neatly stitched it closed with Dean sitting there grim-faced, not speaking, teeth-clenched, refusing to even groan.

"You know, Dean, it's okay if you need to cry like a little girl," Sam had said and Dean had muttered a muffled, "fuck you,” and for a moment things were almost completely normal.

At the moment it was almost 11pm and the long lonely stretch of road was still in front of them. Sam was staring out the window at the darkness when the thought went through his head that maybe he should just take off on his own. Dean was just holding him back now. He’d never understand or accept what Sam was doing. Alone, Sam wouldn't have to go through all the motions. He could end demons now with a white-hot look and iron determination. Soon he would be able to just wave his hand. Besides, he wasn’t really alone. He had Ruby to help him travel and make him strong and now there was an angel charged with keeping him safe…..

Dean punched him in the arm. “Hey, talk to me, I’m falling asleep here.”

Sam was startled out of his thoughts and for a moment he was completely silent, terrified of what he had been thinking and searching for something to say to cover the guilt. Raethaniel wasn’t the first one to tell him that everything he thought was on his face. Could Dean read his thoughts about leaving, even in the dark?

“Then why not just pull over? It’s not like we haven’t slept in the car before.”

“Twenty more miles to a town and a motel, a questionable one probably but something with beds and heat and hopefully not too many cockroaches Just keep me from running off the road.”

Sam fell quiet again and then, because Dean was about to _look_ at him, he blurted out, “Well maybe you could put in one of your ‘greatest hits of 3 decades ago’ tapes and let that keep you awake?”

It started a replay of the argument they've had so often that Sam knew his lines without having to really think about them; and he honestly didn’t care anymore about the music in the car. He would pretty much listen to anything; and on the rare occasions that the music was so loud it gave him a headache, Dean always seemed to figure that out and turned it off. Underneath it all he was still wondering why Dean had interrupted his thoughts, if Dean really had known what he had been thinking. It was scary sometimes the way Dean knew things, how he knew the way Sam could get lost in his own head.

For himself, Sam knew he would never walk away, never put Dean through that kind of pain. He hoped Dean knew that.

“All right, fine, _you_ pick the music,” Dean finally capitulated, which was off-script and caught Sam off-guard for a moment.

He stared at Dean and then reached for the radio carefully, half believing that Dean was going to smack the back of his hand just for the attempt. He switched it on and started rolling through stations until he got to one playing _Who’s Cryin’ Now_ by Journey _._ They went under a street light and Sam risked a glance at Dean and found him staring straight ahead with a muscle in his jaw rippling.

“What?” Sam asked, a note of repressed laughter in his voice.

“Are you kidding me?” Dean demanded.

“It’s from the ‘80s. I thought you liked everything from the ‘80s,” Sam protested,“and it’s Journey! They’re classic.”

Dean grumbled something under his breath and then made it halfway through the song before saying, “All right, enough, screw this,” and shut it off.

Sam settled down in the seat, jammed his knees up against the glove box and waited with one fist up against his mouth, staring deliberately out the windshield, watching with his peripheral vision. A sharp huff of laughter slipped out when he caught Dean, predictably, singing the rest of the interrupted song under his breath.

"Oh, fuck you, Sammy," Dean said again when he realized what he was doing.

For some reason it made Sam laugh, truly laugh, for the first time in a long time and when he finally stopped the tightness in his chest was looser. He looked at his brother, who was trying to glare at him sideways. But then Sam saw the grin Dean was fighting and he cracked up again, feeling like he could finally breathe again.

(0)

 

 


	13. Then and Now

Then:

The spring after Sam turned 16 he started growing. Dean and John had left him with Bobby, knowing he was safe there and gone on a long string of hunts across New Mexico and Texas. They came back to find out he was 6 inches taller. None of his clothes fit and Bobby has cleaned out Goodwill of everything they’d had that would fit him. The new clothes lasted less than a month. Dean had watched his relatively small and compact brother shoot up into something that was all angled lines, boney wrists and ankles and long skinny limbs.

Eating became a marathon. Long after John and Dean were done Sam would still be at it. Sometimes Dean just stayed at the table and watched as Sam kept right on eating, nothing was safe. He’d eat anything. It was the closest thing to a spectator sport that Dean enjoyed.

Sam also went from waiting in the back seat of the Impala with the spell books open to critical pages, chanting in flawless Latin to being out on the front lines with them. He was almost as tall as Dean at that point and could handle the recoil from anything from a handgun to the shotguns.

The hunts got longer then and they spent a lot of time in the car. Sam slept a lot too and when Dean questioned him about it – trying not to sound too anxious – Sam had brushed it off.

“I’m not tired,” he said, “I _hurt._ ”

That wasn’t surprising considering that Sam had grown 12 inches in less than 6 months. So Dean had gone to get his brother aspirin and an icy/hot muscle rub and that was what Dean always remembered about that summer – long hunts and helping Sam grow.

By that Christmas Sam was taller than Bobby and could almost look his father and brother right in the eye. He was bringing home straight A’s on a regular basis taking AP classes.

Christmas came and went on the road, in another run down motel and then they didn’t go back to Bobby’s so Sam didn’t get to finish the year at that school. He figured out how to piggyback wireless at that point and started concentrating on taking classes online, curled up uncomfortably in the backseat of the Impala because he barely fit anymore, typing papers and taking tests.

One night in yet another motel room when Sam had been using the laptop to submit his finals, Dad had started chewing him out about wasting time with that when he should be looking up whatever monster lore they’d needed for their latest hunt.

Dean had been the only one to see the warning flare of Sam’s nostrils, the narrowing of his eyes and the furrow in his brow. With his jaw clenched Sam hadn’t looked up from the computer until he’d finished the download. Then he had very deliberately closed it and stood up.

He stood _all_ the way up and for the first time Dean realized that Sam had gotten taller than _Dad,_ with broader shoulders and way more lean muscle. Sam’s fists were clenched and his face was flushed red.

“Do your own research,” he said, his voice cold and harder than Dean had ever heard it before.

“What?” John demanded.

“You heard me,” Sam repeated.

Dean would always remember that John had tried to stay calm. “This is a nest of vampires. They’re dragging people off to feed. We have to find out where. That’s more important than some stupid school assignment.”

Dean winced and Sam’s face flushed hotter. “Do you own damn research!” Sam spat. “I don’t care anymore. I’m not your slave. I’m getting out of this. I’m going to go to college and have a _life_ because you sure as hell don’t care! All you care about is how you can use us and if we do as we’re told and you don’t care if it ruins our lives as long as it doesn’t get in the way of you god-damned fucking _stupid_ obsession-“

John back handed him, hard, across the mouth. Dean was shot to his feet, shocked, flinching at the noise. Dad had spanked them if they got too out of line, as kids, but that hadn't happened in a long, long time. For a second Dean thought Sam was going to hit back. John looked like he thought it too, and his hands were tightening. Dean rose up on the balls of his feet, ready to jump between them.

But Sam just stood there, shoulders and chest heaving, wiping blood from his split lip; He still had his shoulders squared and his chin up.

He looked John in the eye, making sure that he was looking _down_ and, in a voice that was low and unforgiving, that Dean would never forget he said, "You can hit me all you want. It won’t change the fact that it’s true.”

Dean had no clue what to do with that, and he saw from John’s stunned expression that he didn't, either.

Sam grabbed his jacket and marched out the door, flinging a last, “Fuck you,” after him just before the door slammed shut.

Dean had gone after him. It had set the pattern for the next 18 months, until Sam was finally towering over both of them. He had walked out the door for the final time the day he had packed what few things he owned and left for Stanford ( _Stanford!_ )

They had known he was gone when they returned to the room and found everything Sam owned gone. The room was quiet, way too quiet. John had rubbed a tired hand over his face for a moment and then said,

“Get your stuff, son. We need to get going.”

And Dean had done what he was told.

(0)

Now:

Dean woke up startled. The drapes were still pulled and for a moment he wasn’t sure which motel room this was, or in what state, or who he was with. Then he saw Sam standing in front of the bathroom door. He had his black suit hanging on the hook, steamer in hand, carefully taking out the wrinkles. Dean blinked and saw his own suit, already neatly pressed, hanging on the metal rack.

“Sam?” He said, sitting up, groggy.

“I figured FBI, right?” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Dean said, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He flung back the covers and noticed their shoes waiting by the door, polished to gleaming.

“How long have you been up?”

A smiled tugged the corners of Sam’s mouth. “A while. There’s donuts on the table and orange juice.”

“You got breakfast already?”

“I got junk food, so you won’t be a pain in the ass until you get something fast, hot and brown.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Are we on the clock suddenly?”

“No, just,” Dean paused and shrugged.

“You were dead tired or you would have woken up. I didn’t try to be quiet. I had a shower already, so feel free.”

“Yeah,” Dean said.

He got out of bed and checked out the white bakery bag on the table. Two bear claws, excellent. He downed one and then drank the Tropicana from the bottle.

“Dude,” Sam said, “There are plastic cups.”

“So?”

“So that’s gross,” Sam said, as if he found it pointless to even have to make the observation.

“There are worse things, Sammy,” Dean said, remembering his dream of their rocky past.

Sam glanced at him sharply and then went back to working on a crease in the back of his jacket. He didn’t know what Dean was actually referring to and sometimes with Dean, he didn’t want to, especially when his brother was being cryptic.

“I guess there are,” he answered, mildly.

(0)

 

 


	14. Crossroads Bar and Grill

A morning spent asking questions and digging through the old newspaper and police reports revealed that the murder/suicide had taken place thirty years previously- “Hey, same time your music was popular,” Sam had quipped, earning him a scathing look from Dean.

A husband and wife found dead in their living room, the wife having snapped after years of abuse. The wife was dead of a single gunshot wound to the head. The husband had been shot through the head and set on fire. It seemed that she had hoped the fire would just burn down the entire house. But a neighbor working late had seen the flames and called the fire department and the bodies had been found the next morning.

But now it seemed one of them or the other was back; or maybe both, since husbands _and_ wives were being murdered in the same fashion, right down to the houses almost burning to the ground. In some cases there were reports of domestic violence, but not in all.

“So what?” Sam said, “Vengeful spirits? The wives are killed by the dead husbands and vice versa?”

“Seems too easy,” Dean commented and then shrugged, “But hey, maybe we’re due for something easy. Only way to find out is to salt and burn the remains. It’s been a while since we dug up a grave in the dark. We can lay low until nightfall.”

So they did exactly that and then they drove to the cemetery and Dean picked the locks on the big iron gates. Then Sam walked down the road between the rows of headstones until he found the one they were looking for, with the Impala shadowing him, lights off, engine rumbling like a protective dog ready to pounce on whatever might threaten him in the dark.

They had checked on the location of the grave during the day so it didn’t take long to find it. Dean shown a flashlight on the headstone and discovered they had been buried together. He rolled his eyes as he rolled up his sleeves.

“I’d be pissed too if they buried me next to the guy who had been beating me up for years,” he said.

Sam considered that and then tossed him a shovel. “You take her then. I’ll dig him up.”

It was never pleasant work and Dean even retracted his early observation that this one was ‘easy’. It took hours. It always did. The moon rose and set, leaving them alone with only the lights from headlamps.

Dean finished just ahead of Sam, casting him a cocky grin. He broke open the coffin with a crowbar and came face to face with the gruesome skeletal remains of a woman thirty years dead. Nothing remained by yellowed bones and long black hair. Blank eye sockets stared up at him.

Dean grimaced as he doused the bones with salt and then gasoline before tossing in the matches. He put his hand up to shield his eyes from the sudden flare of light as the fire burst into life.

Sam finished a moment later and jumped down into the hole beside the mahogany box. Dean tossed him the crowbar and he used it to pry open the lid. But then he just stood there staring, the can of gasoline and box of salt untouched on the ground behind him.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Dean said, dusting the dirt off his jeans with equally dirty hands.

“Well, it looks like this is actually going to be harder than we thought,” Sam said, climbing effortlessly back out and knocking the dirt off his boots.

“Why?” Dean asked, instantly on guard and suspicious.

“Take a look,” Sam answered, picking up his shovel.

Dean walked cautiously over to the open grave and peered into the casket. It was empty.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Sam said, using the shovel to slam the lid and starting to put the first scoop of earth back in.

(0)

They were back in their black suits and flashing their badges at the police station again, trying to intimidate more information out of the local chief.

“All right,” the man said, finally. “There is one thing, but we haven’t been able to get any leads off it. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

“What one thing is that?” Sam asked, mildly, before his brother could demand the answer in a more off-putting way.

“The victims? They were all members of the same motorcycle club,” the Chief told them, “No, scratch that. They were all members of the same biker gang. Around here there’s a difference.”

“What difference?” Sam asked, cutting Dean off again.

“Well,” the man leaned forward and clasped his hands on his desk. “Around here we’ve got a club that meets over on the southside. Nicest bunch of guys you’d ever want to meet; and yeah, they’ve got tattoos all over and long hair – no offense, Agent.”

Sam smiled drily. “None taken,” he said.

“Frankly, the whole group looks like they can chew concrete and knock you over with a look,” the Chief went on. “But they meet on the second floor of the Fire Station and they’ve done more charity work around here than you can imagine. There’s a whole new children’s wing on the hospital because of their fund raising efforts. They take meals around to our senior citizens. When it snows they’re the first ones out shoveling walks. The Freedom Riders are a good group. But then there’s another group. They meet at a bar on the northside and they are bad news; or at least they were. These guys who have been murdered? All members of the Crossroads Crew.”

“Crossroads,” Dean repeated because Sam was momentarily speechless.

The Chief nodded and sat back. “They used to hang out at the Crossroad Bar and Grill over on Jackson, the old State route 45. We’ll investigate their murders. It’s our job. But no one around here is really going to miss them.”

Sam and Dean nodded and stood up at the same time.

“Thank you for your time,” Sam said.

Before walking out the door, Dean turned and asked, “Oh, one more thing. The couple that was part of the murder/suicide thirty years ago? Were they part of this biker gang?”

“The Barkers? Yep. Jeb Barker founded the group. But they’ve been dead for years. What have they got to do with it?”

If the Chief hadn’t made the connection to the manner of the murders being the same, Sam and Dean weren’t going to point it out to him.

“Maybe nothing,” Dean said, amicably.

But the look he shared with Sam as they left said _maybe everything._

(0)

The Crossroads Bar was deserted. A neon sign in the window weakly flickered _Closed._ It hadn’t been closed for long but after Sam picked the lock and they crept cautiously inside they found tables covered by sheets and a layer of dust. The same was true of the bar and the empty shelves behind it. They left footprints as they walked.

Their careful inspection lasted a handful of minutes but revealed nothing.

“Well, I’m not sure what we were looking for, but it’s not-“

“ _DEAN_!” Sam’s warning shout made Dean spin around, drawing his silver knife.

The apparition coming towards him was solid enough, skin covered in burn scars, eyes solid black and ominous. It was the first victim, the man whose grave they had dug up the night before. Jeb Barker, in the flesh, so to speak.

“The Winchesters,” the demon purred. “I wondered how long it would take to catch your attention.”

“You could have just sent a postcard,” Dean answered.

“Why does a demon want us?” Sam demanded. He was walking forward slowly.

“Hell thinks you are more trouble than you’re worth,” it answered, “and it wants you back, Dean. It very much would like to have you back.”

“No thanks,” Dean answered.

“Dean!” Sam said again and they both reached into back pockets for their flasks of holy water, surged forward to pour it over the demon.

Its scream was unearthly, unholy. It echoed into the air as Dean turned and ran. When he realized Sam was not following him he turned saw his brother, feet braced, hand raised in the demon’s direction.

“Sam! No!” He hollered.

There was a blinding blue-white light that forced Sam to drop his hand and cover his eyes. When it faded Raethaniel was standing between Sm and the demon. She slammed a hand on the demon’s forehead and it burst forth in a howl of black smoke that writhed in agony and then dissipated. The lifeless body crashed to the floor.

Sam was staring at her in shock and something that looked dangerously like anger. She gave him a hard, implacable look in return and said, “Go!” Then she looked at Dean. “Go, quickly. The others are coming.”

Sam hadn’t moved so Dean strode back to him and seized him by the collar of his jacket.

“Let’s go, Lurch,” he said, because he knew if he insulted Sam’s height it would knock him out of his current stupor.

It worked. Sam blinked and stumbled after Dean, untangling his legs and finally getting them working as they ran out the door and made for the Impala.

They were flinging open the doors and starting to get in when they heard the roar in the distance.

“What the hell is that?” Sam asked, climbing in and not even caring if he fit comfortably.

“Motorcycles,” Dean said, grimly.

Sam abandoned trying to get comfortable and turned around, leaning over into the back seat. He flung back a sheet to reveal the shotguns and bottles of holy water they had stashed there.

Dean drove. The Impala left the parking lot in a screech of tires and hail of dirt and rocks.

When he’d rebuilt the Impala Dean had dropped a V12 engine with a cross plane crankshaft into it. It had taken some serious customization, since it was basically a battle tank engine. It had multispeed superchargers and used high octane gas to keep it from shaking the Impala apart at the seams. It could outrun most things on the road and at the moment it was going to be tested against motorcycles with demon drive.

Sam was kneeling backwards on the front seat, checking shotguns to make sure the salt rounds were loaded.

“You got this?” Dean asked.

“Not much choice, do I?” Sam answered.

He rolled the window down as the wave of motorcycles chasing them came shimmering into existence. A muffled curse left him as he leveraged the top half of his body out of the window, shotgun leveled.

It had been a long time since he’d done this. The wind made his eyes water for a moment and his hair blew forward helplessly. Dean was going to bitch at him about getting it cut again.

If they survived.

He had to let them get terrifyingly close before he could see them well enough to start shooting. When he did, he picked off two almost immediately. Dean risked a glance in the side view mirror and gave a grunt of approval that Sam couldn’t possibly hear over the roar of engines and wind.

In spite of Sam’s skill, it was impossible to keep it up. Every time Dean had to swerve or take a corner on the twisting country back roads, Sam almost fell out. At one point Dean swerved to the left and Sam slammed his head on the roof of the car. He almost blacked out. When he cleared his head, clinging to the rain gutter on the Impala with his fingernails, the demon-possessed gang was even closer. Sam fired again and caught one. It went skidding off the side of the road into a ditch.

Then he had to slip back inside to reload.

Dean glanced at him.

“Your head’s bleeding,” he said, like that was the worst of their problems.

“Hit the roof,” Sam said, grabbing another shot gun.

He was starting to go back out when there was a heavy thump on the top of the car.

“What the hell?” Dean growled. But another glance in the rearview showed all the demons still on their bikes. In the distance they could see the ones Sam had wounded were back on their bikes and gaining on them again.

“Dean,” Sam said, “Look on the ground.”

On either side of the car the shadow of a huge pair of wings could be seen, moving with them at the same breakneck speed. The brothers shared a shocked glance and then suddenly the motorcycle tires began bursting into hot flame. The stench of burning rubber filled the air. The bikes went skidding and tumbling out of control, tossing riders into the air and onto the road.

Dean hit the brakes and Sam went surging forward again, hitting his head on the dashboard. He yelped a curse and then was thrown sideways against the door as Dean spun the Impala around so hard that it drifted all the way across the road, fishtailing madly before he got it under control.

Whoever – _whatever_ – was on the roof stayed with the car as it straightened out and roared back the way it had just come.

The demons were still trying to get up, trying to regroup when Dean slammed on the bakes again, bringing the car to a snarling halt. Sam tossed him a shotgun and he caught it without looking as he jumped out.

Sam was less than a heartbeat behind him, carrying a fresh shotgun. As they made the front of the Impala, Raethaniel leapt gracefully from the roof to land between them. She had a lethal-looking, slender silver dagger in each hand and looked as if she knew how to use them.

Sam was chanting as he fired the gun, his voice clear and hard. Dean was just striding forward, firing one shot after another with grim determination. As the demons fell, wounded or writing from the power of Sam’s exorcism, Raethaniel dispatched them with the silver blades.

The last demon standing was a touch bastard with eyes that flamed red, snarling defiance at them as he ducked Dean’s attempts to douse him with holy water – the shotguns emptied – and evaded Raethaniel in a deadly dance. Sam raised his voice to shouting.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te ... cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare... Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis... Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine... quem inferi tremunt _... Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!”_

With a shriek of pure fury the demon poured forth in a thunder of roiling smoke. It rose up in front of them for a moment and then vanished in a burst of dark energy.

Sam, head spinning, blood dripping down his temple and cheek, dropped to his knees on the asphalt and tried not to be violently sick. Dean ran to him, knelt down and lifted Sam’s chin, trying to see the damage.

“Sammy?” He said. “Talk to me. Say something. Can you see? How many fingers am I holding up?”

But Sam had his eyes squeezed shut because the world was starting to tilt.

Raethaniel came up beside him. “Here,” she said, gently pushing Dean back. She put her hand gently on the top of Sam’s head and the wound disappeared. The blood disappeared. Sam blinked and looked up.

“Wow,” he said, realizing he felt fine. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, grudgingly, “Not a bad bit of guarding.”

They got to their feet, with Dean still supporting Sam, even though Sam was trying to brush him off.

“I told you, there are no limitations to what I can do if demons are after you. They are fair game,” she answered.

They were surrounded by wreckage. Dead bodies and toppled motorcycles, skid marks, the oily, sulfurous stench of demons, the wreak of burned rubber.

“This is going to be hard to explain,” Dean observed. He gave Raethaniel a pointed look.

With a sign she moved her hand and everything dissolved.

“Why did you stop me?” Sam asked and he looked angry suddenly. “Back in the bar? I could have-“

“Done nothing,” she interrupted, “and at great cost to yourself. These men were already dead. Their souls have already been weighed and measured and gone on to the next plane, the next lesson. There was nothing to save.”

“She’s right, Sam,” Dean said, quickly.

He saw the anger fade out of Sam’s eyes, the resignation sitting hard on him.

“You’ll need to be careful if you’re hunting demons,” Raeth said. “They are now hunting you, Dean specifically, but as word of what you can do gets out, they’ll want you eliminated too. You are a great danger to them. They don’t take that lightly.”

“That’s what you’re here to do, right? Protect me?” Sam asked.

“Don’t make my job harder than it already is,” she replied. Then she nodded once to Dean in farewell and disappeared with a sound like the rush of falling leaves.

“I’m never going to get used to that,” Dean muttered.

Sam shook him off finally and started collecting their guns. As they walked back to the car Dean said, “Your head better not have dented my roof, or my dashboard.”

“Fuck you, Dean,” Sam muttered in return.

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. The Song the Angels Sing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief rest on their way to Greybull. Soundtrack: Angel by Aerosmith

The late afternoon filled up the rest stop on the interstate with a mixed group of people. Families on Winter Break poured out of minivans, with children and dogs and some with grandparents along for the ride; truckers taking a breather before hitting the road for a long night haul, couples, hand in hand.

And two brothers who had hit the bathrooms and the vending machines and then separated. One had gone to stretch out as far as he could in the backseat of the Impala. The other was sitting on a picnic table with his feet on the seat and a cup of vending machine coffee in his hands, calmly watching the people going about their daily lives.

Between one sip of bad coffee and the next, Raethaniel appeared beside him. To his credit, Sam managed not to jump. He had hunter reflexes and a preternatural ability to remain still even when startled.

“Did you come to lecture me some more?” He asked, remaining casual.

“You were thinking about me,” She said, “I came in answer to that.”

Sam couldn’t very well deny that. He _had_ been thinking about her. He decided to push down the unreasonable anger he’d been directing at her and be a man about the whole thing. He forced himself to relax. He was a Winchester – _Sam_ Winchester. He was better than this.

“Yeah,” he said, putting the coffee down on the table and turning a little so that he faced her. “Listen. I’ve been kind of a jerk to you and I don’t mean to be. You’re just doing your job; and your job is to help me stay alive. I should at least try not to be a pain the ass about it.”

“If it helps, I _do_ understand,” Raeth answered.

“You do, huh?” Sam said, on a huff of skeptical laughter.

But her response was serious. The look in her eyes was gentle and kind. “You have one of the most unselfish souls I have ever encountered.”

Sam snorted and looked away.

“It’s true. You have almost no ego. Everything you do is for someone else.” She smiled like the sun touched clouds that ran ahead of a storm. “Guarding you has not been easy so far; but it hasn’t been boring.”

“Well,” Sam said, on a fractured laugh, “I’ll try to be more boring if you want.”

Raeth watched him but looking at Sam Winchester was no burden. He was beautiful in that rare way that the term could sometimes be applied to men. Lean, firm, tall; his smile warmed like fire. She had always been told that a dragon couldn’t be harmed by fire. She hoped that it was true.

Inside the angel, something fragile and precarious stirred. She knew what love was. She had understood from the beginning the bond she would have with her charge. But this was more than love of humankind, more than dedication to her father’s creation.

Sam’s eyes had haunted her from the beginning. Right now they were misty blue-gray, ringed in brown. There was intelligence and a kind of natural joy in them, but it was overshadowed. Raeth thought she knew the source of that shadow. She wondered if he ever escaped, if he had ever known peace or allowed himself indulgence.

Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away from Sam Winchester and looked across the grassy picnic area. Two boisterous children were running and playing with their exuberant golden retriever, laughing and tossing a bright green tennis ball.

In the parking lot an older couple was bickering as they walked back to their waiting motorhome. The side window was covered in a map of the United States. Most of the states were colored in. In spite of their bickering, the man opened the door for the woman and made sure she was seated and buckled in before closing the door and going around to the driver’s door. They could hear them continuing the argument until the door closed and the engine started up.

A young couple was having a picnic on a blanket under a tree. They hadn’t taken their eyes off each other the whole time, obviously besotted and in love.

A trucker was leaning on his rig, talking into a cell phone.

“They’re amazing aren’t they?” She asked.

“Who?” Sam asked, though he had really been thinking the same thing. Just the fact that there were people who could go on with ordinary and seemingly happy lives while demons lurked and vampires were real, seemed impossible to him sometimes.

“People. Humanity,” she answered. “It’s been so long since I thought about them, since I was here. I’ve spent so many eons at the Gates of Heaven.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Why what? I don’t understand.”

“I’ve read about you. I studied the Testament of Solomon. It deals a lot with demons. He wrote about you. He sang your praises in fact. He called you the greatest of the demon hunters, with great power over the infernal forces of evil.”

“He may have exaggerated,” she said, ducking her head and looking away.

The gesture and the curve of her neck away from him, the soft flow of blond hair, all conspired to make her look far more vulnerable than she was. Sam reached out to put his fingers under her chin, gently drawing her back to look at him. He didn’t take his hand away. Raeth gazed back at him, into his ever-changing eyes. His hair was being tossed playfully by the breeze and she longed to smooth it with a caress.

“I don’t think so,” Sam told her in his hushed, reverent voice. “I always wondered where you had gone, what happened to you. I mean, clearly we still have demons. Why would one of heaven’s most powerful forces be locked away from us; and now I know where you’ve been. It seems even more criminal to have reduced you to guard duty. I saw what you did to those demons at the Crossroads.”

Raeth didn’t answer. Sam’s hand dropped away from her face.

“I am an angel of the lord,” she said, “I have served in whatever capacity that has been needed, to the best of my ability.”

“I’m sure you have,” Sam said, quickly, not wanting to offend her.

She was still looking at him directly. “It isn’t in my nature to question heaven’s orders,” she said, hesitantly.

It was a mistake. His whip-sharp intelligence zeroed in on it. “Are you questioning them now?”

Raeth felt a small tremor of apprehension. Sam Winchester might truly be one of the most dangerous creatures she had ever encountered.

“About making sure you stay alive? No, not that.”

“Then what?” Sam asked tenaciously.

“Nothing I’m prepared to discuss at the moment. I’m content with this current assignment, Sam. Perhaps you could try to be?”

“Because I don’t have any choice?” Sam asked.

Anger flared for a moment and then died. “Is it really so terrible having me around?”

“No,” Sam said, quickly, “No, I didn’t mean that.” He stopped and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I wish we could talk without …. Without it getting all tangled up.”

Raeth gave in to her need to touch his hair. She slipped her fingers into it and stroked one errant lock behind his ear.

“You’re tired. Perhaps this isn’t the best time to talk at all. We could go over there and sit under that tree and you could try to sleep.”

Sam looked in the direction she gestured. There was an inviting tree with deep red leaves. Brown leaves scattered the grass below it.

Dean was probably asleep in the Impala by now or he would have come looking for him. Usually only one of them slept at a time in these situations. Dean could sleep anywhere, out immediately, as if someone had flipped a switch, often in the most uncomfortable looking positions.

But Sam had resisted sleep almost all his life. He had to be on the brink of exhaustion to fall asleep right away.

He hopped off the table, swallowed the rest of his coffee and crushed the paper cup. He launched it at a trashcan and it sailed in effortlessly.

“Why not?” He said, with a shrug.

They walked over to the tree and Raeth sat down with her back to the tree. He was puzzled for a moment and then shrugged again. Lying down he put his head on her lap and closed his eyes.

Then he said, “Raeth? Are you singing?”

“You _can_ hear it,” she said, sounding pleased.

“What? What is that?”

“It’s the music the angels sing when they set the stars in the heavens at night,” she answered.

“No they don’t. That’s science,” Sam said. He still had his eyes closed. The sun highlighted the creases at the corners and a smile tugged at his mouth.

“It doesn’t mean the angels can’t sing when it happens. Does it?” Her voice was quiet now, almost hypnotic. The soft melody in the background was soothing.

“I guess not,” he agreed.

Raeth started stroking his forehead. “Go to sleep, Sam. Not everything needs an answer right now.”

“I guess not,” he repeated, sounding drowsy.

Raeth smiled a little. As Sam’s face relaxed he began to look ridiculously innocent, boyish in a way that no 6 foot 5 inch, 225 lb. man had any right to look. She settled one long, invisible wing over him protectively. He stirred at the sensation.

“Is that?” he murmured and then stopped as if finishing the question was just too much effort.

“Yes. Go to sleep, Sam.” She sent a silent request on a spear thread to Duma, angel guardian of dreams, to grant Sam undisturbed rest and heard the affirmative answer.

Moments later, Sam Winchester was asleep.


	16. Heaven's Leash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing scenes from before, during and possibly after Death Takes a Holiday.

“You lied to them,” Raethaniel said, flatly. “They think they are following a lead given to them by Bobby Singer.”

“It served a purpose,” Castiel answered, not even remotely repentant.

“Heaven’s purpose,” Raethaniel articulated carefully.

“Does that disturb you?” Castiel asked, just as carefully.

Raeth didn’t reply right away. They were once again at the top of Angel Falls, standing, staring out over the vista, wings outspread. She wanted to fly, for the sheer joy of it, go where the wind took her, ride the thermals like a gigantic bird of prey. Her wings flexed in answer to her unvoiced wish.

“I am not certain when Heaven’s purpose involved outright lies,” she said slowly. “Perhaps things have changed more than I can grasp. The last time I served mankind it was simpler – capture the demons, deliver them to Solomon.”

“The once black and white world of angels and demons,” Castiel said, in a tone of sad reminiscence. His voice was grittier than usual. “I will admit there are shades of gray now.”

“I don’t like shades of gray,” Raeth said. She fought back the sudden image of Sam Winchester’s inconstant eyes when they were more gray than blue or green or brown; when they nearly shaded into black. She would not allow Sam to turn into a monster. She would _not_. Unconsciously she ground her teeth. “Gray is shadows. Things lurk in shadows.”

“We need the Winchesters to do this,” he answered, changing the subject and looking uncomfortable. Being flayed by the sharp edge of Raethaniel’s temper was not something he craved. “They can go where we cannot. The demons have learned the wards against angels.”

“How?” Raeth demanded. “Who would give the demons such power over us? No human knows those signs, not even the Winchesters.”

“Don’t be naïve, Raeth!” Castiel snapped, giving her a flash of his own temper. “How many angels have fallen since the beginning?”

“Fallen so far that they reveal our secrets to demons?” She sounded shocked. “It is one thing to rebel against our father, but to fall so far?”

“How else, then? Those things in the shadows? They are watching us and I fear some of their faces would be familiar if revealed.”

Raethaniel turned to look at him then. Her eyes were no longer the cinnamon-honey brown that had once belonged to Londyn Cuddington. Her eyes were slanted, dragon-eyes, lit with flame.

“Who would dare?” Her voice thundered.

“The demons and those they serve are daring much these days, Raethaniel,” he said. “We need this victory. We need to capture Alastair.”

“Or so we’ve been told,” she answered.

Castiel froze. Hardly wanting to move, he spoke anyway. “Now who is dangerously close to blasphemy?”

“I do not understand the parameters of my assignment,” she said, impatiently. “I’ve been ordered to keep Sam alive, to stop him from going down the path he is on; and you’ve been ordered to send this same man into battle against a demon the likes of Alastair. It makes no sense.”

“We all serve,” Castiel said.

“Sam doesn’t! Sam serves neither heaven nor hell,” Raeth said, fiercely protective of her charge even when she knew what he was doing was wrong. “He does as he pleases. He does what he thinks is right. What do they think the Winchesters are going to do in this case? They don’t even know what the objective is.”

“They will be…. Well, they will be the Winchesters. They will do something impossible and improbable and they will survive, with our help perhaps, or not. But they will survive. They have an uncanny ability to do that.”

The fire in her eyes went out and they were once again the soft brown of her human vessel.

“I grow weary of this,” she said. “I should be able to simply eliminate this demon who threatens Sam.”

“Alastair is to be captured alive.”

“I meant Ruby.”

“Ah,” Castiel said, “Yes. That’s a mystery, one that perhaps we’ll come to understand. You must have faith.”

“I can’t protect a man who has chained himself to a demon,” she said, “and is jerked around by heaven’s leash.”

“Yes you can,” Castiel said. “We have to.”

Raethaniel started to answer and stopped. Instead she unfurled her wings and readied for a dive off the cliff. “I have to go. Sam is calling me.”

Castiel didn’t try to stop her. In fact he joined her, sailing into the air behind her. If Sam was calling his own guardian, stubborn and silent Dean might be in need of something too. The brothers shouldn’t quite be in Greybull yet, but it was possible if they had driven all night.

They soared over the falls for a moment until they gained enough speed and then vanished in the mist.

(0)

Raethaniel found Sam waiting for her in a small, deserted playground. Incongruously he was sitting on a swing, arms wrapped carelessly around the chains, his long legs stretched all the way out in front of him, boot heels resting in the dirt. She appeared in front of him and for a moment she didn’t move. For a moment she only saw Sam as the child he had once been and the normal childhood he had been denied.

“You’re here,” he said, sounding surprised.

“You called me, spoke my name out loud,” she answered, approaching slowly. She sat down in the swing next to his, sinking into the black leather strap that served as a seat and gripping the chain lightly in her hands.

“I’ve done that before,” he observed.

“Once, and we were finished speaking. I knew you were safe. But now…. Now I sense you are not safe.”

“I am at the moment, but I need to do something.”

“Something dangerous?”

“Yes.” Then he told her, about what was happening in Greybull and about the boy who had died and about what they thought was going on. While he spoke, the swing rocked gently, abstractedly, as he pushed it slightly with his legs. Raeth remained silent, though she knew almost all of it already. But then he got to the part where he explained what he and Dean wanted to do about it and Raethaniel leapt to her feet, whirled around and stared at him in shock.

Sam stared back because his guardian was suddenly terrifying. A black shadow of wings appeared behind her. Her eyes changed, became multi-faceted and flame-colored, slanted and almond-shaped.

“Have you lost your mind?” She demanded.

Sam swallowed but then he stood up. She wouldn’t hurt him. As far as he knew she couldn’t hurt him. “No,” he said. “We’re going to do this. My question is whether or not you can help us; and if so, can you protect us once we’re on the other side?”

“You won’t _be_ on the other side,” she said. “You’ll be trapped on the astral plane, neither dead nor alive.”

“Semantics,” Sam said, dismissively, “Look, we’re going to do this with or without you. Can you send us there or not?”

Raeth’s wings rose a little higher for a moment and then the illusion faded. The shadow behind her vanished and her eyes returned to normal. Sam’s feet were braced apart, squared under his shoulders. Standing, he loomed over her. Everything in his stance was intimidating, probably even more than he knew, his mouth set, his jaw hard.

Through gritted teeth Raeth said, “Your brother was not the only one kicked by a radioactive mule. I think your entire bloodline suffers from stubbornness.”

“Are you going to help me or not, because there is someone else who can do this but we’d rather not get her involved.”

“No, I can’t,” she said, “The kind of magic, the kind of power that has to be drawn to do something like that – it would destroy me; and I know you’re going to do it anyway. That’s why I’m so angry.”

Her admission didn’t make him happy. He exhaled but didn’t relax at all. His neck muscles worked as he swallowed the news. Then he accepted it and moved on. “Can you protect us?”

“I am _your_ guardian angel,” she reminded him.

“Doesn’t matter to me. Without Dean…..,” he paused and took a deep breath. “You protect Dean too or there isn’t any point in taking care of me.”

Something inside her stirred again. Sam loved Dean with such a deep, strong and absolute faith that it couldn’t help but touch her.

“I should knock you unconscious until this whole thing goes away!” She told him irritably. “I should let the seal be broken because _my_ mission is _you_.”

“You can’t,” Sam said, with a smug little smirk she wanted to swat off his face. “I’m choosing this of my own free will and you can’t interfere with that. The angels don’t seem all that worried about this since we’re the only ones here at the moment. Now, can you keep us safe on this astral plane or not?”

Raeth looked away from him and closed her eyes. “It will be difficult. I’ll have to watch your physical form and your immortal soul, which will be in two different places.”

Perhaps Sam could see the pain this was causing her, because, in spite of being a stone-cold killer when the situation called for it, he really wasn’t at all heartless. He walked over to her in a calm, relaxed way. Raeth looked up at him, a tall silhouette against a brilliant clear blue sky.

“Can you do that for me?” He asked, softly.

Her hand moved of its own accord, strayed up to touch the warm skin of his neck. Standing close to him, she could see that there was an indigo shadow under his left eye and a yellow stain hiding along the line of his jaw; the fading bruises of his fight with Dean under the siren’s spell. Yet he seemed even more beautiful to her somehow, standing there with the sun gilding his hair, stubbornly determined to leap into harm’s way once more.

Would she protect him now? As if she had a choice……

“Yes, Sam, to the very best of my ability, I will protect you _and_ your brother,” she said.


	17. Demon Blood and Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the credits of Death Takes A Holiday.

Sam walked from their rundown motel to the park. Dean had gone off to find a bar and from there, who knew where he would end up (or with whom or for how long.) He started to sit down on the swing again and then stopped. He wasn’t much in the mood for swinging just now.

They had just gotten done talking to the police and the local coroner had collected Pamela. Their story had been convincing enough and they had been released without any more questions, told to stick around but Sam knew they would be gone by morning.

He jammed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and looked up into the sky.

“Raeth?” He said, quietly. When there was no immediate answer, he spoke louder. “Raethaniel!”

She appeared in front of him, looking sad. “Hello, Sam.”

“Where _were_ you?” He demanded, without preamble.

“When?”

“When Pamela was being knifed!” Anguish painted the words. His hands balled into fists. Tension radiated from him. His shoulders looked as if they ached.

“I was protecting Dean! You asked me to protect Dean, remember?”

“Yes.”

“Well in that moment you were being pulled back into your body and Dean was in more jeopardy than you were.” She could see that he wanted to rail against it. He was angry and wanted something – _someone_ – to blame. His eyes were very dark, almost black. Her pulse was unsteady and she felt hammered by his grief. “Sam, I know it hurts and I wish I could have done more. But I am _not_ Pamela’s guardian and I was doing what you asked of me. I can’t actually be in more than one place at a time. Holding oneself on the astral plain is harder for an angel than you might imagine. You were, for the moment, safer than Dean. I hate what you’re doing and the power it gives you but for that moment, I knew it would keep you safe. The demon was no threat to you and Dean was still facing Alastair. I did what I thought you would want me to do.”

“Castiel was with Dean,” Sam said, stubbornly clinging to his indignation. “Doesn’t he protect Dean?”

“To an extent he does, but that wasn’t his assignment this time; and I didn’t know he was there.”

“How could you not know he was there? He’s an angel isn’t he?”

“There are hundreds and thousands of us!” Raethaniel cried, desperately needing Sam’s fantasies about the reality of angels and heaven to collapse under the weight of reality and fearing the moment that happened. “It would be impossible to know where they all are at any given time; and you have to understand the hierarchy in which I have to work. Castiel is an angel of the Seventh heaven. He’s an honorary _arch_ angel. The degree to which he outranks me is incalculable by human standards and I have already challenged him once on your behalf.”

Sam blinked, drawn out of his misery for a moment. “You did. Why?”

“Something he said,” Raeth waved a hand to dismiss it. “We’re passed it. The fact here is that Castiel never has to reveal his location to me and in this case I knew he was involved but I didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. I can’t protect everyone you love, Sam and I’m _not_ supposed to take orders from you. I can’t save everyone you love. It’s not even remotely my job.” It wasn’t, and in this case she had chosen to abandon Sam in favor of doing as he had asked. Raethaniel had no idea what the punishment for that might be, but she was certain there would be one.

He turned away but not before she saw the tears in his eyes, intense and passionate as only Sam’s pain could be.

“Sam,” she whispered softly. “If it’s any consolation I regret it. I should have been with you. I should have stopped the demon, not you.” She didn’t finish what she was thinking out loud – that by allowing him to use his power she had let him get one step closer to becoming something that would need to be destroyed – one more thing she was going to be hearing about back at home.

“I’m sorry, Raeth,” he said, so quietly she almost couldn’t hear him. “I don’t mean to take this out on you. I’m just tired of burying people I care about and feeling as if I’m to blame somehow.”

“Pamela made a choice to help you. She knew it was dangerous.”

“She died cursing the day she met me and my brother!”

“I know,” she answered sadly.

She wasn’t sure Sam even heard her. He whirled around and stalked off to sit on the single, shabby park bench. He flopped down on it, hands falling limply into his lap, and stared off unseeing into the distance.

Raeth approached him carefully and stopped next to the bench, beside him. Sam sat as if carved from stone. Moisture still clung just below his lashes, tears that were refusing to fall. His mouth was set in a single firm, agonized line.

Her fingertips strayed softly into his hair, of their own accord, because everything about Sam Winchester made her question, made her do things she would never have considered before. Angels were not supposed to have souls but she had always known that they had ‘hearts’. They could not love their father nor obey his order to love mankind if they didn’t.

At the moment Raethaniel’s heart was breaking – with tenderness and compassion….. And with desire. She tossed aside the misgivings and gathered Sam into her arms.

He resisted for a moment and then she felt him break, grief and fatigue purging him of everything but need. He turned just enough to bury his face against her, arms reaching for her, wrapping around, holding tight, groaning as if he had been wounded. Raeth bent her head over his, stroked his hair.

“It’s all right,” she whispered, “I’m here. None of this is your fault. Let go of the guilt before it consumes you.”

A deep shuddery breath left him. Raeth unfurled her wings - still invisible to the human eye, but able to be felt – and put them around him, cocooning him in comfort.

They stayed that way for a long time – the angel whose heart was suddenly heavy with things she didn’t understand and the man with demon blood and sorrow coursing through his veins.

“Don’t leave,” Sam said.

“I won’t,” she answered.


	18. Bringing On the Heartache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pamela’s funeral. Soundtrack: Bringing on the Heartache by Def Leopard.

She was given a Hunter’s funerals, even though she had not ever really counted herself as one of them. They only knew that they had always thought of her as one and so they gathered in a small church in Douglas County, Kansas, to mourn her passing and remember her as she had been in life.

Dean was stone-faced in his black suit and tie, unmoving and silent, with only the grim lines around his eyes to betray his grief. Sam’s face was more animated, moving through sadness and rage and bitter smiles as the stories were told by people who had known her longer and better. It had fallen on the brothers to make the arrangements, to make the phone calls, to gather everyone together to say goodbye. Pamela had been on only child or only children, who had preceded her to the other side. There was no one but her extended family and they were all here now.

Raethaniel watched from above; but as more people spoke, Sam’s grief pulled at her and along with his grief came the guilt. She sighed and decided that she couldn’t possibly be in any more trouble than she already was. She flew to the dirt parking lot and appeared wearing a simple black dress, black low-heeled shoes and a long gray coat. Her hair was braided tightly and tied off with a ribbon.

Quietly she entered the church. A few heads turned when the door opened and she saw them whisper as they tried to guess who she was. She ignored them and made her way to Sam’s side.

He looked up, startled and then shocked. But she smiled and took his hand as she entered the pew. Dean shuffled over and then Sam, so she had room to sit beside him. She didn’t let go of his hand and after a slight hesitation he squeezed it gratefully. Leaning over he whispered, “Thank you.”

Bobby Singer spoke for a while and it seemed he had known Pamela the longest and perhaps the best. Sam hadn’t let go of Raethaniel’s hand so she felt every twitch, every slight indication of his shifting emotions. When Bobby finished, Sam let go of her hand and stood up. Dean looked up in surprise but Sam was already walking steadily past the simple coffin to the podium.

He stood for a moment with his head bowed, hair falling over his face. Then he took a breath and straightened up, shaking his hair back and running a thoughtless hand through it.

“Someone once said,” he began, “and I wish I remembered who it was, but I don’t, but the quote is ‘death reminds us that nothing is promised, only that living was worth it.’ No one I ever knew lived harder or more vibrantly than Pamela. It always seemed like nothing could slow her down for very long. So that’s why it seems impossible that now, I have to let her go. _We_ have to let her go. This isn’t about good-bye. When you say good-bye, chances are you’re going to see each other again, and probably soon. But this, death…. This is about letting go, about trying to find a way to be all right with never seeing her again; and I think the only way we can do that is to be there for each other, even more now. I also think that if she ever heard me say any of this she’d probably kick my ass and tell me to shut up.”

There was a ripple of choked and Sam managed to smile a little.

“I’m going to miss her,” he said, clearly choked up. “I’m going to miss her sass, her irreverence, her laugh. I’m going to miss her gifts, that she gave us so willingly and often at great cost to herself. I wish I had thought to pick up the phone and just call her to say hi and ask how she was doing. But I didn’t and now I regret it. So all of you sitting here today should just get used to the idea that I might be calling just to say hi and if all you say back is ‘shut up, Sam’ before hanging up on me, I’m going to be okay with it.”

He stopped talking and left the podium, walking quickly back to Raeth and Dean on shaking legs. Raeth got up to let him sit down, her hand under his arm at first as she helped him sit. Then she linked her arm through his, lacing their fingers together tightly.

The pastor of the small church – a friend of Bobby’s who never questioned it when Bobby said he needed the place for a funeral - got up and said a few more nice things about death and heaven and life hereafter. Not one of the assembled hunters actually believed a word of it and Raethaniel felt a strong need to correct most of it. But they all remained silent, out of respect for the traditions if not the words. It seemed that the only one who might have spoken out was the one they were gathered here to mourn.

When the pastor finished, everyone stood up. Sam, Dean, Bobby, Ellen Harvelle and her daughter Jo, and Rufus Turner moved around the casket and each took a handle. Lifting the box reverently they carried it from the church to a waiting hearse. They slipped it inside and Bobby closed the door with a click that sounded loud and final in the silence.

The pastor asked once more if they wanted him to go to the cemetery with them and he didn’t protest when Bobby said no, because Bobby always said no.

As the funeral procession left the church, the threatening sky made good on its promise and rain began to fall. Raethaniel rode in the front seat of the Impala, between the brothers. Sam stared out the window and didn’t say anything. Dean stared straight ahead and didn’t say anything.

The silence continued all the way to the deserted farmhouse and lasted until they parked the Impala and climbed out. The logs were already piled up for the bonfire that would consume the earthly remains of their friend. No one asked if the body had already been salted. They knew Bobby would have taken care of that.

“This rain is going to make this fire a bitch to start,” Dean growled as he stripped out of his suit coat and put on a heavy raincoat.

“No it won’t,” Raeth said and when the brothers glanced at her they saw he eyes briefly flare up into blue.

Sam’s eyes met Dean’s over her head. “We have a dragon with us,” he observed, shrugging and reaching passed Dean for his own heavy jacket. “Fire shouldn’t be a problem.”

They joined the crowd gathering around the hearse and Sam was forced at last to introduce Raethaniel.

He expected suspicion. Look who they were with, after all. Bobby eyed Sam first and then Dean and then shrugged it off when all he got back was the boys’ very best innocent expressions. He’d seen that look before and knew it would take a while to get to the truth. He nodded at Raeth with curt respect and then gave Sam and Dean a narrow-eyed glare that said he wasn’t done with this.

Sam swallowed. Dean managed to keep looking back without flinching.

“How did you know Pamela?” Ellen asked. The look in her eyes was flint and steel.

Sam opened his mouth but Raeth spoke before he could. “I didn’t, not personally. But she helped find one of my sisters who had been missing for a long time. I’ll always be grateful to her for that.”

Ellen didn’t lose her skeptical look. “Happy family reunion?” She asked.

“No,” Raeth admitted. “But we know where she is now and she’s closer to coming home. That’s more than we had before.”

“Raethaniel,” Jo said, as if she was sampling the name, “Is that French?”

“It’s Hebrew,” the angel answered, gently.

“Oh,” was all Jo said in reply.

Bobby interrupted, cranky and more gruff than usual. “Are we going to stand around yappin’ all day or are we going to get this over with?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, moving forward as if relieved to have something else to do.

They had said everything that needed to be said back at the church. The coffin was hoisted to the top of the pyre. Bobby hands everyone a torch, then lit one for himself and went around the circle lighting all the others. On some unspoken signal, they all stepped forward and placed the torches in the kindling at the base. The flames spurted and hissed in the rain. Sam saw Raethaniel lift her hand in a gentle wave and suddenly the funeral pyre burst into flame.

They took a step back because the heat was intense, standing in silent tribute and reverence. Sam was gazing into the fire, not really thinking, feeling numb when Raethaniel suddenly stood on tiptoe and whispered urgently in Sam’s ear.

“I have to go.”

“Go?” He bent down to be sure that he had heard her correctly.

“Home,” she said, emphatically.

“Now?” He asked.

“Right now,” she said, “and if I don’t they’ll pull me out of this vessel and everyone will wonder how your friend dropped dead at Pamela’s funeral.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam said, thinking quickly. “Dean! I need the keys.”

When Dean first turned to look at him it was obvious he was going to ask if Sam was out of his mind. But then he saw the look in Sam’s eyes and he knew something was up, the way he knew if Sam had slept, or eaten or had a nightmare. He dug into the pocket of his pants and tossed him the keys.

Without another word Sam left the funeral and took Raeth to the car, helping her into the front seat and then dashing around to the driver’s door.

She was looking at him anxiously when he climbed in.

“I don’t know what will happen,” she said.

“Does this have something to do with me?” He asked, looking guilty, his eyes were dark gray, washing in anguish.

“No, I made my own choices about you,” Raeth answered. “But making their own choices is not something angels have ever been encouraged to do.” She leaned across the front seat. Her hand stroked over his temple, brushing his hair back behind his ear. Fingertips slid down his cheek to rest on his jaw. She pulled his face close and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she breathed the words into his ear.

Sam turned, wanting more than that, wanting an actual kiss, his mouth on hers, as crazy as that sounded.

But Raeth had already vanished.

(0)

 

 

 

 


	19. Pain in the Ass Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the credits and opening scene of On the Head of a Pin.

Sam knew the ruse would work. Even though Raethaniel was already gone, he started the Impala and drove back to the church, turned around and drove back to the farmhouse. If anyone asked he would say that Raeth had been dropped off and needed to get back or she would have missed her pickup. It was plausible enough.

But he _hated_ lying to the only extended family he had ever known and he hoped none of them would ask.

He drove back feeling like a knot that was tied too tight; not just from Pamela’s death and the part he had played in it, but from his confusion over angels in general. His hands were shaking and his throat was dry. His head was aching. He almost pulled over to the side of the road to summon Ruby but managed to talk himself out of it for a lot of reason.

For one thing, he’d be gone longer than he could explain and Dean would ask him questions that he couldn’t answer. For another, knowing Dean, he’d ask Sam a bunch of uncomfortable questions in front of everyone just to get them to gang up on him; and he really didn’t feel very well. Lastly, the shoulder of the road was all dirt and gravel and Dean would kill him if he got gravel in the Impala’s undercarriage; (and Dean _would_ find gravel in the undercarriage, if not today then eventually.)

So he ground his teeth against the urge until his jaw ached and drove straight back to the group gathered at the farmhouse, standing soberly in front of the blazing fire.

When the rain became unbearable and the fire began to fade, the assembled group began to disperse. Some were going back to Bobby’s. Some were going back on the road, back to the hunt. Sam and Dean agreed to stay until they were sure the fire was out. They changed clothes one at time in the car and then sat huddled in the front seat watching to fire.

They were silent until Dean almost fell asleep. He shook himself and sat up straighter, stretching his arms up as high as they would go and arching to crack his spine.

“Okay,” he said. “So what happened? Why’d you need the keys and where’d you go?”

Sam didn’t answer right away. He reached into the back seat and pulled out a grocery bag with a can of Pringles and a bag of apples in it. He tossed the Pringles to Dean and bit into an apple, chewing slowly.

“Where do you think I went?”

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted; then added, “Pringles? Really?”

“At least they’re vegan,” Sam countered.

“Really?” Dean seemed surprised. He peered at the can in the disappearing daylight and tried to read the label.

“Yeah, really,” Sam said.

Dean picked at them, realizing he was hungry when he started to eat, realizing that Sam had already known that somehow.

“So where did you go and where’s the angel?” He said.

“I drove to the church,” Sam said, “in case everyone wondered. I didn’t stay. I turned around and came right back. Raeth got….. a summons, I guess. She had to leave or they were going to yank her. I figured explaining that I took her back to the church to get a ride was easier than explaining why there was a dead body lying there next to me.”

“Okay,” Dean said.

“What?” Sam demanded.

“Nothing,” Dean answered, “I said, okay.”

Sam studied Dean carefully for a long time but Dean just watched the fire and ate Pringles until the can was empty. He grudgingly accepted the bottle of water Sam produced from the same grocery bag and drained it without putting it down.

It was well after dark when they were satisfied that the fire was almost out and that the steady, freezing rain would continue to put it out. Dean started the engine and its roar was startling in the empty darkness.

“We should get some dinner before going back to the room,” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “There was an all-night diner back when we crossed the Shawnee county line. Any objections?”

Sam shrugged and stared out the wide window at the rain. Taking that for a yes, Dean drove on.

(0)

There wasn’t a whole lot of choice for dinner this far off the beaten path. Sam wasn’t really very hungry. He’d eaten the apple and swallowed the water because he’d thought maybe the headache was from dehydration and lack of food. The pain _had_ eased. But the stress of the whole thing was still there so his head was still aching. Sam wanted nothing more than to find the first motel room in Shawnee County and crash onto the bed closest to the door.

But Dean handled stress by eating. It was one of the ways he functioned through pain; and while it was quite often spoken out loud that Dean’s job was to take care of his pain-in-the-ass-little-brother, it was just as true that Sam spent a lot of time taking care of his pain-in-the-ass-big-brother. It was still true even when they were at odds with each other over one thing or another.

So he sat hunched up in the front seat of the Impala (wishing not for the first time that the damned thing had bucket seats), eyes closed, knees against the dash so tight his feet were going numb. He didn’t speak until they were in the diner – _Bill and Kelly’s All Night Diner._ It served breakfast 24/7 so Dean ordered literally everything – stack of pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs, hash browns, – and Sam ordered an egg white veggie omelet with no cheese and a fruit cup.

“Dude,” Dean said, shaking his head. “The way you eat people are going to think you’ve got some kind of eating disorder.”

Sam watched his brother pouring maple syrup on his pancakes and shook his head. They’d had this discussion. If Dean wanted to clog up his system with maple flavored corn syrup and grease, who was Sam to stop him?

He picked at the omelet while Dean bolted everything he could get into his mouth all at once.

They finished eating, paid and left a generous tip and then hit the highway again. Sam didn’t voice his need for a place to sleep. Dean barely let him get in the car before he had them out on the road going 100 miles an hour in a random direction, just to drive and get as far from Pamela’s funeral as they could.

Sam slouched in the seat, with the window cracked so the cold air would come in and keep him awake. Dean stared firmly out the window.

After a couple of hours they found a hotel. Sam got the room while Dean cleaned the trash out of the Impala. Sam was exhausted but he knew that Dean would continue to stay up if he didn’t talk him into resting. He’d been known to wash the Impala out behind the motel many times in the past.

There was a pool hall across the street from the motel and Dean was eyeing it curiously. Sam felt a thrill of panic. Dean was still sitting on a whole world of suppressed guilt and rage. The idea of him walking into a place full of half-drunk locals was not something Sam wanted to contemplate.

But he knew better than to say, _Dean no._ So instead he said, “You go ahead. I’m going to the room. I’ve got a killer headache and I want to lie down.”

It had the desired effect. It kicked Dean from ‘let’s raise a little hell’ to ‘take care of Sammy’ in 0.2 seconds.

“No, it’s late,” Dean said, “We should try to get some rest.”

“Okay,” Sam said, shrugging with indifference when what he wanted to do was sigh in relief, “Whatever. I just want some aspirin and whatever passes for a pillow in this place.”

Sam was intent on that goal – make Dean sleep – so finding two angels waiting for them in the room they had only _just_ paid for was not a welcome surprise. Once he found out what they wanted, it was even less welcome….

…. And then they vanished with Dean and Sam was left standing in an empty room shouting “Damn it!”

He stood there, fists clenched, trying to get his aching, scrambled brain to _think_ , to form some kind of plan.

In desperation and with no idea if she would or could even answer, Sam whispered, “Raeth?” In the silence that followed he raised his voice and shouted at the ceiling, “Raethaniel!”

 


	20. 300% DONE

Sam was more than a little stunned when Raethaniel actually did appear in the room.

“You’re here,” he exhaled. The knot in his chest and gut that had formed when Dean vanished loosened a little.

“I heard you call me,” she said.

“What happened up there?” He asked, “Are you all right?”

Her hair was mussed, as if she had just gotten out of bed. Her eyes were slightly haunted and she wasn’t wearing her black jacket or scarf.

_She had been brought before Dalquiel, Anahiel and Azbogah, the highest ranking angel of judgment. They were all in their true forms - Dalquiel as the Great Bear, his brown wings resting loosely against his broad back, Anahiel, in her form as a gigantic panther, black with glittering gray-blue eyes, wings held upright and tight, Azbogah the Gryphon, eagle-headed, lion tail twitching. Raethaniel was in her dragon form with her feathered wings held tight against her white-gold body. They all towered over her. She could have been held between their paws and claws and talons with ease._

_She had never been held in judgment before. She discovered that it was not pleasant…._

_They let her go when Sam’s shouting of her name shattered the air around them._

Raethaniel swallowed and made a dismissive motion with her hand.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” she said, “What is wrong? Why did you call?”

“I need you to take me to my brother,” he said.

“What?” Her confusion was clear. “Where is he?”

“Don’t you know?” The knot in his chest was starting to tighten again.

“How would I know, Sam?” She asked.

“Castiel and Uriel were just here and kidnapped him! Can you find them? Do you know where they took him?”

Raeth took a moment to gather her patience. “Sam, angels of their rank do not have to ever let any of the rest of us know where they are, or what they are doing. I can call Castiel but he never has to answer me.”

“Then can you find him? Isn’t there something you can do? Raeth, I promise I am not trying to _order_ you. I’m begging. I’m pleading. I’ll get on my knees if I have to-“

“Sam, it isn’t that I won’t, it’s that I _can’t_. The kind of magic this requires –- It would kill me just to be in the same room with it.”

Sam looked lost and slightly wounded. “Then can’t you find something on this angel radio thing? Isn’t anyone talking about this? You can’t just kidnap people, can you?”

“It’s possible none of the others even know,” she said, “if the orders came directly from Michael, or if Castiel and Uriel are somehow going off on their own. Why did they want Dean?”

When Sam explained it to her in angry, clipped words Raeth felt a rise of utter astonishment and fear.

“No,” she whispered.

“No to what?” Sam demanded. “To angels being killed or to angels wanting my _brother_ to _torture_ a demon to find out who is doing it?” His voice rose and reached a crescendo of pure fury before he was finished.

He was just done with this, 300 percent _done_ with heaven and angels and demons and all he wanted was to find his brother. If he got to kill Alastair at the same time, then that was just fine with him.

“To all of it!” She said, surprised at the snap in her own voice. “Demons _can’t_ kill angels, so why would Alastair even know what was going on?”

“As far as _you_ know,” Sam answered, “What if it isn’t regular demons?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s all kinds of awful things out there, isn’t there? In the past I’ve dealt with the 7 Deadly Sins, hell hounds, black magic.”

“Yes, but none of those can kill angels either” she admitted. “Sam…”

She stopped talking and approached him slowly, the way one approached a wounded animal. She reached out with equal caution but Sam was looking inward and not really paying attention.

Gently she touched his cheek and his headache vanished, along with his exhaustion. He seemed startled again and then managed to look relieved and grateful for an instant.

“Thanks,” he said, “I didn’t realize how bad it was.” He raked his fingers through his hair and stared off into the distance again for a moment, unseeing. “Why did they send you back, Raeth? It seemed like you were in some serious trouble but as soon as I called they sent you back.”

“My last orders came from Michael himself. No one can rescind them but him. Sam,” she said, “Please. Castiel can’t hurt Dean --“

“Is this why the angels left my brother in hell for so long?” He asked, suddenly.

“What?”

“Did they leave him there until he broke, until he learned how to torture? Until he got really good at it? Because it seems to me that’s when he was rescued, _after_ that; after he gained that skill. My father taught us to kill, and to do it efficiently and he taught is to defend ourselves. But he never taught us that, how to torture. Dean learned that in hell and you all _left him there_ until he did!”

“I didn’t leave him anywhere!” Raeth snapped back.

“Your brothers and sisters did! Your _father_ did,” Sam growled. A blind rage was cascading just past the edge of control.

“Sam! Watch what you invoke!”

He didn’t back down. His voice just got colder. “Can you take me to my brother or not?” He asked, eyes like flint, cold and gray.

“No,” she said, “I can’t. If you give me time, I can return home and see what I can find out.”

“Dean doesn’t have time,” Sam said, and it was clear that he had made a decision. “You should go, Raeth. If you want to go back to heaven and see what you can find then do that. But if you can’t take me to Dean then I’m going to get someone who can.”

“Who?” She asked, anxious and wary. “Sam what are you going to do.”

“Someone who can do the kind of magic you claimed would kill you,” he said, his face blazing with determination. “So you have two choices, stay or go. I already have one death on my head this week and I don’t really want to add another one. But I’m going to find Dean no matter who gets in my way.”

They stood in silence for a moment after that. Raethaniel was gazing at him in mute appeal, eyes full of tears. Sam was unmoved. At last she vanished with a rush of wings.

Sam was shaking but he went to the Impala and got candles, matches, a locked box of mixed spell ingredients and chalk. He locked the motel room door, pulled the tacky drapes and dimmed the lights. He drew a triangle on the table in chalk, wrote the symbols in the corners, lit candles and placed them. Then he filled the bowl with the ingredients needed to summon Ruby, lit them on fire and began to chant,

“ _Ad constringendum, ad ligandum eos pariter et solvendum: Et ad congregandum eos coram me_ ….”

(0)

**A/N: I’ve watched No Rest For the Wicked a dozen times to make sure I had Sam’s chant to summon Ruby correct. I also found it at the Supernatural wikia pretty the same way I was hearing it. I went to 13 years of Catholic school and I speak Latin pretty well. The translated chant itself makes no sense in the context of summoning a demon and I can only assume the writers do this on purpose to prevent people from accidentally summoning something best left to rest.**

**Also, I have heard discussions from various fans about whether or not Sam has an eaten disorder. He doesn’t, imo. He eats like I do – as clean as possible, as plant-based as possible, no preservatives, no chemicals, as close to raw as possible.**

 

 

 


	21. Lightning in a Shadowed Wood

Sam’s jaw was set and his eyes were hard. Raethaniel had no idea why the paper cup of bad hospital coffee wasn’t being crushed in his hand.

“I’m not sorry,” he said. Angry color still washed his cheeks.

“No one has asked you to be,” she informed him.

“I’d do it again.”

“I know you would.”

His breathing was still deep and deliberate, nostrils still flared, eyes narrowed.

“Dean is going to be all right,” she said, “Castiel made sure of that.”

“He’s still in the hospital,” Sam said, unfazed.

“A sudden miraculous recovery from the kind of injuries Dean sustained attracts too much attention,” she said.

“A close inspection of our health insurance is going to attract attention too,” he said.

“I’ll take care of that.”

Sam looked at her sharply but she held his gaze without flinching. His eyes were particularly odd – dark green fading to brown struck through gold streaks like lightning in a shadowed wood.

“Like you took care of the little boy with the cancer that’s suddenly in remission?” He smirked a little when she looked away, “The whole hospital is talking about it. I saw you go the Oncology floor. It _was_ you, wasn’t it?”

“I’m given a certain amount of leeway when it comes to miracles, as long as if doesn’t interfere with free will. I haven’t been to Earth in so long…. I have a few miracles I can invoke it I want.”

They were seated at a very small table in the hospital cafeteria. Sam had coffee and an empty banana peel in front of him. He’d gotten her a cheese danish and water and paid with a badly crumbled ten dollar bill that he’d pulled from his front jeans pocket. His jacket was hanging on the back of his slender metal and plastic chair – a piece of furniture that didn’t seem at all capable of holding someone his size. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his green plaid flannel shirt, almost to his elbow.

He looked haunted. He became completely still when she reached over to stroke his forearm, supple and alive, pulse beating strong over his heavy wrist, the skin silken smooth even over the fine lines of scar tissue. She ran her fingers up to his elbow and then reversed to trail back over firm muscles under a rough sprinkle of fine dark hair. She closed her hand over his wrist, noting how small she looked in contrast.

A mist of madness surrounded Raethaniel for a moment, hot and lovely. Sam was powerful, Sam was unique. He was _beautiful_ , looking so strangely innocent and pure, smooth bone and muscle and tendon carved into a perfection worthy of heaven.

Sam was dangerous in ways she had not calculated when they had first met.

But at the moment Sam was just angry and tired.

“Castiel won’t let anything like that happen to Dean ever again,” she said.

“How can you be so sure?”

Raeth looked away, chewed on her lower lip for a moment and then said miserably. “Because now we know there’s a civil war in heaven. There _are_ angels who joined Uriel and we don’t know who they are. Castiel was trying not to kill him. He never drew his angel blade. He was trying to take him alive so he could be questioned. Anna apparently didn’t care. We’ll be more careful who we trust now. We’ll have to be.”

Something in Sam’s expression changed, as if he was just realizing the selfish jerk he was being.

“I’m sorry, Raeth,” he said, sincerely, turning his arm and drawing it back so that he could take her hand. “This can’t be easy for you. These are your brothers and sisters.” His sudden concern caught her off guard. She tried to pull her hand back but he held it tighter. “And I’m sorry for thinking that Dean was deliberately left in Hell. Castiel explained it to me. I wish someone had realized what Lilith was doing sooner and gotten him out sooner. But I’m forgetting to be grateful to all of you for getting him out _at all_. I know he was there of his own free will. But it was because of me that he made the choice in the first place.”

 _Let go of your guilt, Sam._ She longed to say it out loud but didn’t. He had somehow managed to turn a corner from being angry and she didn’t want to put him on the defense again.

She stood up, pulling him along with her. He almost spilled what was left of his coffee.

“Hey!” He said.

“Let me take you somewhere nice, away from here. Castiel is with Dean. I can promise you he’d burn down the world at the moment to protect him.”

Sam pulled another one of those sad smiles. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be preventing? The world burning down?”

“We can’t prevent it if anything happens to Dean. He’ll have a host of angels guarding him now. But _you_ are my responsibility and you need to rest.”

“Okay so where are going?” Sam hadn’t let go of her hand, but he was picking up her Danish from the table and grabbing his coat with his other hand.

“Do you trust me?”

The way his eyes flickered for a moment, looking away, considering and then returning to her said that he had actually had to think about it for a moment. _Please, Sam. Please. Don’t trust a demon more than you trust your guardian angel….._

He exhaled and nodded once, curtly but resolutely. He tossed the coffee in the can by the door as she dragged him out of the cafeteria and ultimately out of the hospital all together. They walked into the parking lot and then out of that too, heading for the park across the street. Once there she led him to the shadow of a giant oak.

“I will bring you back the moment you ask me to, sooner if I think you need it,” she swore.

“Okay,” he said, uncertainly. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

A moment later Sam was standing in one of the most luxurious hotel rooms he’d ever seen.

“Oh my god,” he said, looking around. “Where are we?”

“We’re at a hotel about 5 miles for the hospital. You could take a cab to your brother if you wanted.”

Sam nodded, satisfied. The room wasn’t particularly large, but there was a king sized bed taking up most of it. The view of the surroundings from the sliding glass door was spectacular – the softly setting sun and the lights of the city just starting to come on.

“It’s paid for,” she assured him, “and we’re registered. No one will bother us. Why don’t you go take a shower, as long and hot as you want, and I’ll order something to eat?”

Sam scratched his fingers through his scalp and thought about being thoroughly clean and it was suddenly heavenly to imagine.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, trying to regain his balance in a world where he was murdering a powerful demon one moment and then going to take a long, hot shower in a luxury hotel the next.

Not to mention that his guardian angel was going to order him room service.

“Sam,” the angel said, “I can _feel_ you thinking. Just go relax now. Nothing else is going to happen tonight.”

Believing her and, at last, trusting her, Sam went to do as she suggested.

(0)

 

 

 

 

 


	22. An Angel's Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: One by U2

It was the longest and hottest shower of Sam’s life and it would have been longer if he wasn’t on the brink of collapsing from exhaustion. His stomach was snarling with hunger. He hadn’t eaten or slept in …. He couldn’t remember when he had last eaten or slept. He rubbed a rueful hand over his bristly jaw as he rinsed soap off his face but there wasn’t much he could do about it. In the morning he would see about finding a razor.

It wasn’t until he got out of the shower and used up two towels drying his half-a-mile long body and all his hair that he realized he didn’t have any clothes to wear. He glanced at the discarded pile on the floor and winced. The shirt sleeves were still rolled up to hide the stains created when Ruby’s blood had dripped on them and when he had used them to wipe his mouth after he had finished.

His mind skittered sideways from the memory. Raeth could probably destroy the shirt for him if he asked her to.

There were two plush bathrobes on hooks on the back of the door. He grabbed one and belted it tightly around his waist. It was tight through the shoulders, the sleeves barely hit his wrists and it only went his knees but he supposed it was better than walking back out into the bedroom naked.

Not that Raeth probably didn’t know perfectly well what he looked like naked, just from a human anatomy standpoint if not personally. He remembered that she’d told him her last vessel had been male. So she had a pretty good idea what the equipment was and how it worked –

He pulled his own thoughts up short and wiped a hand over his face.

 _God,_ he was so tired.

He went out into the bedroom and found Raethaniel waiting for him. She had taken off her jacket and her hair was unbound, flowing down her back like honey being poured in sunlight. Her blue sweater hugged every curve before dropping down along her long waist. Blue jeans hugged long thighs. She was like a jewel that had finally found its perfect setting.

Sam took two steps and then stopped, heart stuttering and then pounding. He was alone in a magnificent hotel room with a very beautiful woman. His body – so often blind to conscience – reacted immediately. Swallowing he pulled the robe a little tighter and made a beeline for the room service cart, hoping it was tall enough for him to hide behind. So very few things were.

As for Raeth, she was not unaware, once again, of how beautiful he was. When he moved passed her a sharp, clean scent engulfed her – man and soap and fresh linen. She inhaled, sampling it. Then stopped and sought better control

Her own behavior alarmed her. Sam gave her all sorts of strange feelings and mad impulses she ought not to be having; especially not in light of having been unceremoniously recalled to heaven. She was free to offer Sam Winchester whatever he needed to be well in mind, body and spirit. She knew it included sex and if he asked, she was willing.

But she wasn’t supposed to feel anything in return.

“Are you hungry?” Raeth asked.

“Starved,” he answered.

He started lifting lids and putting plates on the table. Raeth moved to help him. The occasional brush of their hands didn’t do anything to make him less aware of her.

“Spaghetti?” He asked.

“Is that all right? The picture on the menu made it look huge.”

“It’s perfect.” The smell alone had caused his stomach to growl and made him a little lightheaded.

There were turkey meatballs to go with it and tomato sauce, a salad, bread and butter. Everything was doubled because she had ordered for two. He uncovered two slices of apple pie and looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“I thought you could sneak them in when you go to see Dean tomorrow,” she explained.

 _When_ not _if_. The angel was getting to know the Winchester brothers very well. He gave her a grateful smile.

There was also a bottle of red wine and two glasses. Sam wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. Before sitting down he got a glass of water from the sink.

Raeth sat down across from him and smiled tentatively. “They suggested the wine to go with the meal. I wasn’t sure what you would want. I can get you something else if you want. Beer? Herb tea? Raspberry lemonade?”

“No, water is fine,” he said, digging in.

“I can get you whatever you want, Sam,” she said, softly. It was a statement of raw power. He assumed that making certain that her charge didn’t die of thirst and hunger was well within her job description. But it made him wonder at the exact definition of ‘whatever’.

“I’m already much better than I was,” he assured her, “and it’s getting better.”

The food was delicious, which he realized about twenty mouthfuls into it because he had been pretty focused on just quieting his stomach before that. It seemed odd to eat while she sat across from him, watching. She had gotten a pencil and pad of paper from the desk and was sketching on it. He couldn’t see what she was drawing. It was being hidden by the basket of bread.

“Do I want to know how you’re doing any of this?” He asked.

“I’m not even sure I could explain it to you. Can you trust that all is well?”

“I don’t have much choice,” he answered, diving into the salad.

“If it helps my name means ‘mystery’, so perhaps you should just get used to not being exactly sure what is happening.”

When he looked up liquid brown eyes were laughing at him. In spite of the events of the last few days, Sam laughed a little, choked on a bit of lettuce and reached for his water.

His ‘mystery’ was still smiling at him, looking pleased.

“Look, I know I’ve said this to you before but I’ve been kind of jerk, and I don’t mean to be.” He paused, chewed swallowed, knocked it back with more water. “It’s something the Winchesters are good at. Dean…. Dean can be a real son of a bitch without even trying. I try to be better…”

“You have a lot happening right now,” she said.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “and Bobby wouldn’t let me use any of that as an excuse. He’d tell me to man-up and knock it off.”

It was worth noting, Raeth thought, that he had referenced Bobby as a parental figure and not John Winchester. It was another glimpse inside the world of Sam Winchester.

“I’m fairly certain that not being able to ‘man up’ isn’t a problem for you at the moment,” Raethaniel said.

Sam choked again. Her eyes were lit with gentle teasing. A smile played around her lips. Sam stared for a moment and then threw back his head and laughed.

He hadn’t felt like this in a long time – almost without care, and even if he knew it was temporary it felt good.

“Yeah, well, you’re really beautiful, you know.”

“This is a vessel,” she reminded him.

“Yes, but it’s yours, your form that you show the world and it’s beautiful.”

In answer, Raethaniel held up the pad of paper. She ripped off the top sheet and handed it to him.

“This is me,” she said.

She had drawn a dragon in repose, front legs folded like a cat’s, wings up but not unfurled. Its head was up, looking forward, alert but not alarmed. It was covered in scales, with a long mane of them falling from its arched neck. The wings were heavily feathered.

Sam studied it for a moment and then looked back and forth between Raeth and the drawing for a moment. Laying it reverently beside his plate he said, “Still beautiful.”

“You think so? It isn’t a little odd to you?”

Sam laughed again. “No. I’ve had ‘odd’ in my life since back before I can remember. So now I know a beautiful woman who happens to be a … a ‘were-dragon’. Stranger things have happened to me.” He sat back, ripping a piece of bread apart and taking bites of it as he did. “Besides, I can’t ever see you like that, can I?”

“I wouldn’t want to risk it,” she said.

“I wouldn’t either,” he said and then changed the subject because it was dredging up painful memories of Pamela.

He got through all the food and ate one of the pieces of pie too, after making Raeth promise she wouldn’t tell Dean. As they put the dishes back on the cart he picked up the drawing and asked,

“Can I keep this?”

“Of course,” she said, “If you want it.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, and meant it.

He put the cart out in the hallway and then locked the door. For some reason it was getting easier to walk around wearing nothing but a bathrobe. Maybe he was just tired now. His body was leaning more towards sleep than sex at least, a relief to say the least. He wasn’t sure if lusting after an angel was a sin or not.

“Sam?” She said.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t give him a chance to ask where she was going. She simply evaporated. He stood in the middle of the room in shocked silence for a moment, wondering where she had gone.

And then she was back. She was carrying his duffle bag, the one that contained everything he usually took into a motel room with him – his shaving kit and a change of clothes, sweatpants and battered gray t-shirt he usually slept in, extra socks and the soft sneakers he could get on his feet without untying, toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb, clean underwear.

“Dean is sleeping. Castiel is still with him,” she paused and smiled a little, “The hospital staff thinks they kicked him out when visiting hours ended, but he’s still there. They just can’t see him.”

“Thanks,” he said, stunned anew that she had thought to check on his brother and then gotten his things. He reached for the duffle and gestured at the bathroom. “I’ll go brush my teeth and put something on besides the robe.”

‘Something besides the robe’ proved to be even more problematic. As he brushed his teeth it realized that his faded sweatpants weren’t going to be much cover if his body decided to betray him again. In fact, it might be worse.

Sam sighed. Fine, so be it. Raeth was a big girl and she knew the score. It hadn’t bothered her before. It was unlikely to again.

When he returned to the room she had pulled back the covers on the bed and was sitting up on it, legs stretched out in front of her, back against the heavy mahogany headboard.

She’d changed too, into pajamas – a tank top and flannel pants, navy blue with little white stars on them.

“Is this all right? I thought it might help you sleep if I stayed with you.”

Sam swallowed hard and turned out the lights, quickly. He climbed into the bed beside her and stretched out on his back.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Do angels sleep?” He asked, into the dark.

“We can go into a kind of meditative trance on occasion. It’s often beneficial and quite soothing. I’d still be aware of you and could respond if you were in danger.”

“Okay,” he said, closing his eyes. Long habit had conditioned him to adjusting his eyesight quickly in changing light. He wanted to block everything out.

The image of Raeth’s long arms and creamy smooth skin over the soft curves of feminine muscle had been seared behind his eyelids however; along with the vision of her breasts, the gentle swell above the edge of the shirt and the deep shadow between them. He couldn’t ‘unsee’ it. She brushed her fingertips along his cheek.

“Go to sleep, Sam,” she said, not for the first time in their short history.

He tried, letting himself float free, surrendering. Her touch raised an intoxicating sense of arousal but he was too tired to do anything about it. When she settled down beside him he was no longer quite sure where he was anymore. When she leaned over and touched her mouth softly against his resistance dissolved like sugar in the rain. Her lips feathered gently over his, her tongue performed a little dance that made his lips part of their own accord. He inhaled and then sighed. He felt her lips turn up in a little smile, pressed against his.

“Goodnight, Sam,” his mystery said.

Sam fell asleep with the honeyed taste of an angel’s kiss still warm in his mouth.


	23. Soft Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is light, because even though they have lighter episodes, there aren’t enough of them, imo.

Sam woke up the way he always did – instantly aware of his surroundings, of every sound and everyone in the room with him.

It was day, judging by the sunlight trying to get around the cracks in the drapes. There were only soft electrical sounds – the mini fridge cycling on, the soft hum of his laptop. He was lying on his stomach, arms under the pillows. He was also instantly aware that he had slept without a weapon of any kind under those pillows, which was incredibly unusual.

But he had also fallen asleep beside his guardian angel. So that was maybe the most deadly weapon he’d ever slept with.

He sat up, stretched and then realized his back didn’t hurt at all. Wonders what a decent mattress would do.

“Good morning,” Raethaniel said.

She was sitting at the table again, wearing her jeans and blue sweater, barefoot, one long leg curled under her. His laptop was open in front of her and he started to ask her how she’d gotten into it. Then he remembered she was an angel and figured a little thing like a secured password wouldn’t have stopped her.

“It is?” Sam asked.

She looked over at him. A lock of her hair fell over the side of her face as she did and Sam realized that she was truly heartbreakingly lovely.

“Isn’t that the proper greeting? I’ve been doing some research into your culture. Should I say something else?”

“No,” Sam said, laughing under his breath for a moment. Raethaniel was a juxtaposition of great power and being utterly clueless. “No. I was asking if it’s still morning.”

“I believe that it is, yes,” she said, helpfully.

He pushed back the sheet and blanket (which he did not remember falling asleep under) and stood up. His bladder was rather urgently asking for attention so he went straight to the bathroom and shut the door. Once there he the first thing he noticed was that his clothes were missing.

Finishing and washing his hands, he splashed some water on his face, examined the latest progress of the beard that was growing unheeded, and sighed. He’d take care of it later.

His next stop was the coffee maker and once it was happily dripping he turned back to her.

“Where are my clothes?” He asked.

“I sent them to the laundry,” she answered.

“Someone else is doing my laundry?”

Raeth sat up. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just--. No one has done my laundry since I was like 10,” he said. He scratched his fingers through his scalp and winced at the tangles. He’d deal with them later, he decided. “What time is it?”

“I don’t understand?” She said.

Sam smiled and said, “Look down in the corner of your screen. There should be some numbers before the letters A and M?”

“Eleven oh five,” she said, hesitantly.

“Oh,” Sam said, “Don’t we have to check out?”

“No. The room is reserved indefinitely; or as Castiel told me, until one day after Dean Winchester starts complaining about being in that hospital bed and tries to escape.”

This time he didn’t try to stop the burst of laughter. He filled his chest and let it fill the room.

“Yeah, that’s my brother,” he said. Then he sighed. “I need to see him.”

In the space of an eye blink, Sam was standing in Dean’s hospital room, still wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants, barefoot and scruffy, hair sleep-tousled. He inhaled in sharp distress.

“Raeth!” He said, “You could have let me get dressed.”

“No one can see us,” she said.

“What?”

“We’re invisible. Dean’s asleep. Look.”

So Sam looked and Dean was indeed asleep. The heart monitor was beeping steadily red line rising and falling in perfect rhythm. The bruises on his face had turned purple and blue as they began to heal. The cuts had scabbed over. There was no sign of the habitual crease in Dean’s forehead that betrayed a restless sleep. His brother actually looked peaceful.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam demanded.

“Still watching him.”

“Where? I don’t see him.”

Raethaniel didn’t answer for a moment. When she did she spoke in very slow, quiet words. Sam was smart and she didn’t want to talk down to him. She wanted to make him understand as best she could. “Angels exist in multiple dimensions, Sam. You and I are in one right now. Castiel is in another.”

“And you’re aware of Castiel?”

“He isn’t hiding from me, so yes, I know where he is.”

Sam was still looking at Dean but she knew by the frown of concentration on his face that he was thinking about it carefully.

“That’s why we can’t see your wings,” he said, when understanding dawned. “You keep them hidden in another dimension. But it also helps you recognize each other. You can still see them.”

Raethaniel smiled as if he had just passed some kind of test. Sam’s expression was both quizzical and certain.

“Yes, it’s safer for you.” She paused a moment and then went on sadly, “The sound you hear when we leave is what happens when we pass back into that dimension, when we ‘rejoin’ with our wings on a single plain. If one of us is killed while on this plain of existence, our wings are pulled back to us with such force that it scorches the ground around us. It is a ….. difficult way to die.”

Sam glanced at her, and then looked back at Dean, still lying quietly in his hospital bed. “I’m sorry. I hope that doesn’t happen often.”

“It is very difficult to kill an angel,” she said. Then she seemed to brush past it and said more easily. “But I promise you that Dean is safe right now and Castiel will keep him that way.”

Sam tore his eyes away from Dean and looked into hers – molasses brown, dark and fathomless, calm. There was something so serene about her, a comfort he could easily fall into. Sam let that peace flow over him like a soft rain, washing away his fears.

“Yeah,” he shivered suddenly, “Can we go back? It’s a little chilly.”

“Of course.”

He never saw her move or blink but they were back in the hotel room. The coffee was done. Cold and shaking a little, Sam went and poured a generous mug full of it and swallowed it, hot and black.

“Will you be all right for a little while? There is someone I need to see,” Raeth asked.

Sam looked around the gorgeous room that was all his at the moment. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Call the ….room service,” she said, as if the words were foreign to her. “They’ll bring you whatever you want to eat.”

Sam exhaled and shook his head. “Raeth, who exactly do they think I am and how are we paying for this?”

“They think you are Sam Winchester,” she answered; “the man staying in one of their best rooms, who paid for an entire week, in cash.”

“But I didn’t,” he protested.

“Yes you did,” she assured him.

“Isn’t that-“

“Sam,” she interrupted.

He stopped talking and just looked at her. There was something more ancient than he could possibly imagine in her eyes. He thought he saw a glimmer of blue light just under their dark surface.

“There aren’t many miracles that I can give you,” she said, “Would you please just accept this one for now?”

He sighed and refilled the coffee mug. “I haven’t been registered in a hotel under my real name in…… I’m not sure I’ve ever been registered in my real name,” he shook his head in baffled acceptance. “Can I ask where you’re going?”

“I need to speak to one of my brothers,” she answered.

“You’re going back to heaven?”

“No, I asked him to meet me on another plain entirely.”

“Can I ask who it is? Will you be safe?”

She frowned. “I – Yes, I will be safe. It’s a member of my garrison.”

“The way Uriel was a member of Cas’s?” Sam challenged. His voice was normally so mild that it was a shock every time it took on the edge of cold steel.

“Yes, but Lamechiel is not Uriel,” Raeth swore to him. “Besides, Lamechiel has a … fondness for you, I guess is the easiest way to explain it.”

“For me?” Sam asked, surprise and disbelief softening the edge.

“You called on him once for help. Don’t you remember?” When Sam just looked back she said, as if reciting, “Azrael, Castiel, Lamechiel, Rahab. Eruo alui Altum–“

“Oh!” Sam said, “Yes. I remember. It was the ghost ship thing. Really? One of the angels remembers me?”

Her smile was gentle, almost tender. “I imagine they all do. No one had called any of their names in countless millennia. I think they were too surprised not to respond. Lamechiel came to me when he discovered that I was being assigned to guard you he came to tell me about you, about your belief in us and how they had helped you. He is still honored I think.”

“Wow, I had no idea,” Sam said, with a somber, contemplative expression. She knew he was thinking again, connecting lines and memories, seeking a conclusion. “Wait. Isn’t Lamechiel the angel of deception? Why do you need to see him?”

“Why did you?” She countered.

Sam was taken back but he enjoyed being challenged by her. It was exhilarating to hold his own in a conversation with a magical being that had existed for millennia. So he said, “Lamechiel is also capable of thwarting deception and that’s what I asked him to do. I guess I’m asking if you trust him as much as I did.”

She smiled again and Sam wondered when he had started thinking of her smiles as tiny rewards.

“To a certain extent,” she admitted. “Lamechiel should know if anyone in the garrison is hiding something.”

“And how will you be able to tell if Lamechiel is hiding something?” Sam wanted to know.

It was a fair question. But she got that hint of something in her eyes again and he knew she wasn’t going to give him an answer.

“I need to go, Sam. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

He knew she was about to disappear and he had one more thing to say. He spoke quickly, “Raethaniel!”

She looked directly into his eyes and for a moment his will failed him. It irritated him because he was a hunter and he’d faced worse things than asking a simple question.

“Did you kiss me last night, or did I imagine that?”

“No, you didn’t imagine it,” she answered. She cocked her head to the side. “Did you like it?”

Sam felt the heat rise in his face but he nodded. “Yeah. I did. Did you?”

Her smile was the most enigmatic one he had seen yet. “Yes,” she said, “I did.”

There was a soft flutter of air and she was gone.


	24. I Brought Pie

Raethaniel was gone longer than Sam had anticipated and after an hour he considered just calling a cab and going to the hospital on his own. Hell, Raeth had said it was only 5 miles. He could walk that far if he had to. He’d certainly done more for his brother than that.

He called and talked to the nurse’s desk and found out Dean was still sleeping (which made him wonder what they could have given him to knock him out for this long. Dean hardly ever slept more than a few hours at a time.) Deciding to wait another half an hour, he’d scrolled through the TV channels, half-heartedly watched a documentary on time travel before losing patience. He had been reaching for his shoes, intent on getting to his brother, when she reappeared in the room.

A wave of relief washed over him so intense it startled him. Apparently, it startled Raethaniel as well.

“You were worried about me,” she said in a blunt statement of fact.

“Yeah, I was,” he admitted, because his guardian seemed able to read his emotions if not his thoughts; or maybe it had just shown on his face. He’d been told before that everything he felt showed in his expression. When Raeth didn’t say anything else he felt compelled to explain. “Listen, I’ve always believed in angels. But now it’s all a bit different. Now I know angels really are warriors—“

“No, Sam,” she said, gently, “We are only instruments, _malakhey Elohim_ in Hebrew, sent by God.”

“So Uriel was sent by God to kill the angels who refuse to join him in freeing Lucifer? Does God want Lucifer free and if he does, then why not just let him out? He’s the one who put him in the cage to begin with, isn’t he?”

Raeth looked so lost that Sam instantly regretted the question. “That isn’t a question I can answer. Sam, I’ve spent thousands eons at the gate of the Third Heaven. So much as changed and I’m trying make sense of this as much as you are. There is still so much I don’t understand myself and so much I _can’t_ tell you. I only know it has happened in the past – the angels have tried to start the Apocalypse and failed. I can’t believe they’ll succeed this time. But will you let me talk to Castiel about all this first? I’ll take you to Dean and you can talk to your brother while I talk to mine?”

“I’d really like that,” he agreed.

“Are you ready?”

“No, wait.”

He went to get his shoes, his jacket and the carefully wrapped slice of apple pie. Then he nodded.

Before she moved to take them to Dean however she said, “Sam, can you refrain from being confrontational with Castiel? I know you’re still angry with him for his role in Dean’s kidnapping. But he’s ….. not dealing with all of this well at all.”

“This?” Sam asked, with a gentle lift of his eyebrows.

In a somber, quiet voice Raeth said, “His brother lied to him, betrayed him and tried to kill him. Perhaps you can imagine how that must feel?”

It stabbed him through the heart to think about but outwardly he didn’t lose his composure.

“I thought angels weren’t supposed to have feelings,” he replied.

Raethaniel swept him with a considering look from head to toe and back up, ending by looking directly into his eyes. “Yes,” she agreed, “that’s something else we’ve been told that I’m not sure about anymore. Perhaps after eons everything evolves.”

She didn’t give him a chance to respond to that. In a breath he was standing in an elevator at the hospital. The numbers above the door were lighting in an ascending order, indicating that it was going to Dean’s floor. As the door opened he said, “I promise I’ll be good. I just want to see Dean. Thank you for bringing me; and Raeth?”

“Yes?”

“I’m really glad you’re all right.”

Sam heard the lower murmur of Castiel and Dean talking as soon as they turned the corner into the hall leading to Dean’s room. Very little got passed his hunter-trained hearing.

Dean was sitting up. The bed was still in a slightly inclined position and there were two pillows behind his head. He grinned when he saw Sam.

“There you are. Finally. Took you long enough,” he said.

“You were asleep,” Sam said, “and I was enjoying a really amazing hotel room.”

“Yeah, well I’m awake now and the parade of nurses coming to see the ‘miracle man’ has been amazing,” Dean answered, still grinning. “A lot of miracles around this place lately, it seems. People are claiming it’s the work of angels.”

Raethaniel lifted an eyebrow and glanced at Castiel.

“I brought pie,” Sam said, which made Dean sit up a little straighter and grin a little wider.

“Pie? Awesome,” Dean said, “and where’s my Baby?”

“In the hospital lot,” Sam answered, “I’ll drive it back to the hotel when I Ieave. They have a security guard and everything.”

“Cool,” Dean said.

“Castiel,” Raeth said, suddenly, sounding very formal. “May I speak to you privately for a moment?”

The look Castiel gave her was assessing. But he rose up out of the chair and moved to her side. They turned as one and walked out the door. Sam and Dean both watched them go, noting the way they walked in lockstep, shoulders almost touching.

“They walk like Secret Service,” Dean noted, then dismissed it because his mind was often like quicksilver, never resting on any one thing for too long. “So where is this pie you brought?”

Sam went to stand beside the bed, blocking the door with his body. He had been hiding it under his jacket, along with the fork.

Dean licked his lips and reached for it eagerly. “Ahh, yeah,” he sighed. “What’s this, apple, and real silverware? Must be some swanky place you’re staying. How’d you pay for it?”

“Didn’t,” he shrugged, “Raeth took care of it. She said she had a certain number of miracles she could give me and I should just relax and accept this one.”

Dean gave him a look that bordered on a leer and asked, around a mouthful of apple pie, “Really? So what other miracles has she given you? You hit that yet?”

His brother’s face got that annoyed/angry look at Dean was so skilled at producing. “Dean!” Sam snapped. “She’s an _angel_.”

“She sure is, and she’s damned hot,” Dean paused only long enough to spear another bite of pie.

“She’s an _angel_ ,” Sam repeated.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “You said that. Did you at least kiss her?”

Color flooded Sam’s face and Dean pounced on it with a triumphant bark of laughter. “Ha! Knew it. So what was that like? What did you do after that?”

“I fell asleep,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “Look can we talk about something else?”

But Dean wasn’t at all ready to let that go. He stared at Sam for a moment as if he couldn’t believe what he had just said.

“You fell asleep?” He repeated and then shook his head in wonder, “Brother, we have _got_ to talk about your game.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Sam protested. “Look Dean, I was so exhausted I couldn’t stand up anymore. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept--

“Wasn’t like what?” Dean interrupted.

“It wasn’t that kind of kiss.”

“What kind?”

Sam shifted his weight from foot to foot and looked uneasy. “It wasn’t a ‘do-me-right-now’ kiss. It was more like….”

He stopped, suddenly very interested in the opposite wall.

“More like what?” Dean asked, even though he was getting that strong vibe, the one that said he might not want to hear what Sam said next.

Sam sighed in frustration, exasperated. He raked his fingers through his hair and blurted out, “It was more like ‘go to sleep, sweet dreams’; and since no one has ever given me a kiss like that I figured I’d just go ahead and … fall asleep.”

It wasn’t exactly a stab through the heart. It was more of a prick at the old wound of their childhood, a badly healed scar that sometimes bled fresh.

Dean became really involved in finishing off his pie. He took the last few bites, scraped up crumbs and all but licked the plate. When Sam finally looked back at his brother he found Dean trying to figure out what to do with the now empty plate and unneeded fork.

Forcing his limbs to move, Sam took it from him, put it on the raised table next to the bed and then dropped down into the chair that Castiel had recently vacated.

There was an uncomfortable silence and then Dean tried to break it.

“Look, Sam-“

“Shut up,” Sam interrupted. “Just stop talking.”

Dean got a cocky grin on his face and said, “I’ll kiss you goodnight from now on if you want.”

“I said, shut up.”

“Okay, well I’m not going to completely shut up. So let’s just change the subject. What happened with the angels? Has Raethaniel told you anything?”

Sam stretched his long legs out in front of him and rested his elbows on the edge of the chair.

“She hasn’t said much, just whatever’s going on in heaven it sounds like a mess.”

He turned to look at Dean and asked, “What about Cas? Has he told you anything?”

Sam Winchester knew his brother very well and he knew when there was something Dean wanted to tell him and when he was trying very hard not to tell him anything. This was one of those times.

“I’ll tell you when I get out of here, okay?” Dean said.

Sam sighed again. “When will that be?”

“Tomorrow. I’m supposed to stay here one more day for ‘observation’. Then we should get out of here. This is already longer than we usually stay in one place.”

Sam wanted to protest. He wanted to tell him about the hotel and the angels and how everything was being taken care of for once. But he was tired suddenly, so he didn’t.

“So what other kind of pie does this place have?”

“The hotel?” Sam asked, “Umm, pumpkin, blueberry and peach I think.”

“Peach?” Dean asked, interested.

“Yeah. Should I bring you that next time?”

“Could you?”

Sam shook his head ruefully. “Sure, bro. Whatever you want.”

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	25. It Won't Change Anything

**_THEN:_ **

_Dean couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing his little brother saying. “What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, Sam? If it's supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That's our job,” he insisted, almost pleading, not understanding why he had to explain this to Sam. They had been doing this all their lives._

_“No, Dean, that is not our job,” Sam said. “Our job is hunting evil; and if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!”_

_Dean felt his temper rise. “Of course they're killing people, that's what they do. They're all the same, Sam. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them.”_

_“No, Dean, I don't think so, all right? Not this time.”_

_Man, he and Sam’d had some really weird disagreements over the years but he had never seen this one coming. “Gordon's been on those vamps for a year, man, he knows.”_

_“Gordon?” The skepticism in Sam’s voice was hard to take._

_“Yes,” Dean answered shortly._

_“You're taking his word for it?”_

_Sam didn’t say ‘over your own brother’s’ but it was there just the same._

_Dean lifted his chin. He hardly ever hated Sam for his height, but right at the moment he did. Being able to look his ‘little’ brother squarely in the collar bone sucked sometimes._

_“That's right,” he said, tightly._

_Sam got that look in his eyes, like he was trying to be patient. “Ellen says he's bad news.”_

_Incredulous, Dean demanded, “You called Ellen?”_  
  


_Sam nodded, looking oh-so-reasonable._

_“And I'm supposed to listen to her?” Dean asked, “We barely know her, Sam, no thanks, I'll go with Gordon.”_

_“Right,” Sam drawled. “'Cause Gordon's such an old friend. You don't think I can see what this is?”_

_“What are you talking about?” Because so help him, if Sam was going to psychoanalyze him, Dean was going to throttle him._

_“He's a substitute for Dad, isn't he? A poor one.”_

_And there it was, the pysch stuff. “Shut up, Sam,” Dean growled._

_Sam pushed on anyway, relentless, looking at Dean with pity. “He's not even close, Dean; not on his best day.”_

_“You know what? I'm not even going to talk about this,” Dean snapped._

_Sam ignored him. “You know, you slap on this big fake smile but I can see right through it. Because I know how you feel, Dean. Dad's dead. And he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to. It's an insult to his memory.”_

_Dean wanted to walk away. He did. “Okay,” he said, fed up, starting to turn away._

_But then he whirled back around, taking advantage of the momentum, fist balled and taking aim before he even knew it. He punched Sam in the jaw, hard, hard enough to snap Sam’s head around._

_Sam staggered but recovered quickly, touching his knuckles to the bruise on his jaw. He stood back up, slowly and Dean braced for the return punch._

_But it didn’t come. Sam, damn him….. Sam just said, all too softly, in an echo of what he had said to John all those years ago,”_

_“You can hit me all you want. It won't change anything._

_(0)_

**Now:**

Dean woke up abruptly, uncertain for a moment if he’d been traveling through time for a moment or if he had been dreaming, reliving a hard memory.

The hospital was quiet, not entirely dark but lights dimmed for the night. He took a moment to make sure his dream/memory hadn’t set off his heart monitor. He didn’t need a bunch of nurses running in here right now.

It had been unsettling and Dean took some time to lie back on the pillow and recover from it.

Sam had been right that time. Sam was almost always right. He had really good instincts. He’d learned to listen and take in his surroundings in the backseat of the Impala. He’d learned to read people and he was good at it. He was so far outside the box he didn’t know a box existed, always 5 steps ahead of Dean even on Dean’s best days.

It had made him jug headed and stubborn as all hell, impossible to deal with when he was wrong because he was so often _right_.

He looked up into the dark and said, quietly, “Raethaniel? If you can hear me, I’d like to talk. It’s about Sam.”

He wasn’t sure if it would work but a moment later Raeth was sitting in the chair by the bed.

“Hello, Dean. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” She asked.

“Yeah,” he sat up, raised his knees and linked his arms around them. “But I had a dream and-“

He paused and she filled in the blanks. “About Sam?”

“Yeah,” he scratched his fingers through his already disheveled hair. “Not really a dream. I was remembering something that happened a long time ago.”

“Is it still relevant?”

“Well, only in that my brother is still one stubborn bastard when he wants to be.”

“And this is relevant because?” She let the sentence trail off, watching him carefully. Her expression was hidden by the night shadows.

“He scared the crap out of me,” Dean admitted, “when he went after Alastair, the _way_ he did it. Sam and I are both hunters, both raised in the life. But Sam never takes any satisfaction in it. He’s efficient and he does what he has to do and he’s stone cold about it. But the way he went after Alastair, it was cold but it was … I don’t know, vicious. That’s not Sam.”

“I can talk to him again,” she offered. “About Ruby.”

Dean snorted. “I’ve talked to him. Now I want to beat him until I’ve knocked some sense into him.”

“What is stopping you?”

Dean’s sigh sounded more like a muffled growl. “It won’t work. He’d just let me beat him and then get up, dust himself off and walk away. He’s got the highest level of pain tolerance I’ve ever seen in a human being.” He paused and his eyes got a faraway look, part remniscing, part astonished admiration. “I remember this one time, Sam was about 8 or 9 I guess. He fell out of a tree, on my watch of course. I swear he did stuff like that to me on purpose. Anyway, he dislocated his shoulder. I wanted to take him to the hospital but it was a pretty long way off and all we had was a bike. So he let me pop it back in and I know that had to hurt. It had to hurt like a son-of---“

He broke off with an apologetic glance, remembering he was talking to an angel. “Well, I’ve dislocated my shoulder a few times since then and it hurts; and he was a _kid_. But he hardly made a sound. His just gritted his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut and then we put some ice on it and I gave him some Tylenol. Two hours later I looked out the window and he was climbing the _same damned tree._ I almost ran out the door yelling at him to get down but there was something in his face. He was so determined to do it. So I let him and he climbed as high as he could and then he climbed down and we never talked about it again. I’m telling you, he’d break his leg and look me straight in the face and say he was fine.”

“So you are saying that pain isn’t going to stop Sam from doing something he believes is the correct thing for him to do and he won’t back down from a challenge just because he suffers setbacks?” Raeth guessed.

“No he won’t,” Dean said. “I love my brother. I’d do just about anything for him. But I can’t let him keep doing this. It’s already changing him.”

“He loves you too,” Raeth whispered softly, “and more importantly he trusts you, far more than he does me.”

Dean looked miserable. His brother’s trust was the one thing he hoped never to lose and the one thing he was going to have to risk if he was going to help him. He kind of missed the days when Sam had looked up to him, thought Dean was Superman and Batman all rolled up into one. Those days hadn’t lasted all that long but they had been pretty sweet now that Dean thought back to them.

“Raeth,” Dean said, “You said that you can’t interfere with his free will?”

“That’s right,” she acknowledged.

“But I can?”

“I couldn’t stop you,” she told him.

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” Dean demanded.

The look she gave him was frank and direct, unnerving in their sheltered little room. “Both.”

He nodded satisfied and relaxed back onto the pillow for the first time since he had woken up from the dream.

“What are you going to do, Dean?” She asked.

“For the moment, nothing,” he answered, “Just get him out of here, hit the road, find a hunt to keep him occupied if I’m lucky. After that…..” His voice trailed off and he let out a deep sigh, “After that I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep my brother alive.”

“Just like always,” Raethaniel remarked cryptically.

But Dean nodded. “Yep. Just like always.”

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	26. Invocation

Raethaniel went back to the hotel room and rematerialized on Sam’s plane of existence soundlessly. Sam was sleeping on his side, facing the door. In spite of her noiseless emergence into his realm she heard the slight change in his breathing that signaled a rise out of a deep sleep. Hunter instincts drove him even in his dreams it seemed. She knew he wouldn’t move, wouldn’t as much as twitch to give himself away. He’d wait and do a threat assessment before he was even fully awake. By the time he came awake he’d know exactly what he was dealing with and how to react.

She crossed over to him quickly and touched his cheek with the back of her hand. She didn’t speak. There was no reason to rouse him. Sensing her, Sam grumbled something unintelligible and settled down. A moment later his breathing told her he was back to whatever dream she had disturbed.

Carefully she sat down on the bed beside him and simply watched for a while. There was too much going on in a short space of time and she herself was uncertain how to proceed. For the first time in her seemingly endless existence she was afraid to seek any kind of enlightenment or revelation. For the first time she was content to sit beside the man she was charged with guarding, alone, cut off.

Her conversation with Castiel was weighing heavily on her. Heaven’s angels remembered the last uprising, the rebellion led by Lucifer, the upheaval and pain it had caused; the incredible loss of her brothers and sisters and for no good reason that anyone had ever explained to her.

Then demons had come into the world of men and she had been dispatched to deal with them.

Now it felt like it was happening all over again.

She had not known Castiel very well before this, but she was coming to respect him as a good soldier, a righteous angel, devoted to the Lord. His sense of confusion and loss had affected her deeply.

_She had asked Castiel a question she had never asked any of her brothers or sisters and when he answered her, she didn’t believe him._

_“Are you all right?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Seven – no eight – members of his garrison were gone and they had all been betrayed from within. The last Being they had seen was someone they had trusted who was now their executioner. They had no way of knowing if everyone left in the garrison was still loyal to Heaven. Raethaniel realized that she had not really wanted the truth when she had asked him that question. There were no words in any language they knew that would_

_“He was one of the first; one of the archangels,” Castiel began, nostalgically speaking of Uriel; and he paused and then recited the invocation of the Seventh Heaven, the prayer of all the angels, “In the name of the Lord God our Father, may Michael be at my right hand; Gabriel at my left; Uriel before me; Raphael behind me…”_

_“And the dwelling place of God be above me always,” Raeth finished when Castiel faltered._

_“Yes,” Castiel sighed, “Now Lucifer is caged, Gabriel has vanished and no one knows where he is. Uriel is dead; Raphael and Michael are as powerful and unapproachable as ever.”_

_“And Lucifer,” Raethaniel reminded him quietly. “He was one of them, second only to Michael. He is still causing chaos, even locked in the depths of Hell.”_

_“Yes,” Castiel agreed sadly. “Uriel asked me if I remembered him, if I remembered Lucifer. I didn’t answer but I wondered how anyone could forget him.” He seemed lost in his own thoughts for a long moment. There was a distant emotion in his eyes that Raethaniel could not quite grasp, as if the angel was drowning in his own unshed tears._

_But then Castiel asked, “What did you want to talk to me about?”_

_Raethaniel forced her thoughts from the memory of the beautiful and long lost Lucifer, the brother she, like so many of them, had not understood but wanted to help. It had been an instinct perhaps, ancient and ultimately futile. She had been in the army that had risen to oppose him and fresh blood seemed to fall from the memory. The idea of that much war and death once more marching across space and time left her feeling ill. “I spoke to Lamechiel,” she said._

_“About?”_

_“The deception in your garrison and how it has gone so long undetected.”_

_This caught Castiel’s interest. He looked at her with renewed intent. “Can he help?”_

_“He is willing to try,” she answered. “He is a seraph of the Third Heaven. That should count for something even in a garrison of the Seventh Heaven.”_

_“We should have all come under greater scrutiny when Anna fell,” Castiel said. “I am not sure that even the angel of deception can find its roots.”_

_“He will need you if he is to enter the Seventh Heaven. Will you go and take him there? I will watch over both Winchesters.”_

_Castiel made a frustrated grunt and shook his head. “The Winchesters: two thorns from the same rose,” he said with a sigh, “There is more going on here than I can understand and they are at the heart of it. Yet I feel that they are being manipulated against their will. None of this is of their doing, starting with the ‘special’ treatment Dean was given in Hell.”_

_“Then are you and I being manipulated right along with them?” Raeth asked, wincing at the question because not so long ago it would never have occurred to her to ask._

_Their eyes met. Under normal circumstances they would never have worked together like this. They had known only of each other, with no personal experience on which to base a relationship. Now they had no choice but to trust each other._

_“Sister,” Castiel said, not as a question but as a declaration, a statement of fact._

_“My brother,” she acknowledged, inclining her head._

_They didn’t get any further. At that moment, they both heard Dean Winchester calling her. She looked at him, startled._

_“What does he want?”_

_“I am only sure that it will have something to do with Sam,” Castiel replied. “I will go to Lamechiel now.”_

_“I will answer Dean.”_

_They had separated and she had not heard from Castiel since them….._

Sam stirred once again, rolling over onto his back. One arm fell across his chest, the other beside him as his hand searched for her in the dark. Raeth slid down the mattress until she was stretched out alongside of him, lying on her side with her hand on his chest. She was learning to enjoy this odd human ritual of sleeping and waking, under covers, in private darkness. She was surprised by how satisfying it was to be near the large solid presence of Sam Winchester, to feel his strength and power, his innocent frailty, comfort, companionship, the assurance that her charge was for the moment safe.

She linked her hand with his, over his beating heart and silently waited for the dawn.

(0)


	27. Angel of Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the credits of It’s a Terrible Life. IMO, this episode suffered from ‘abrupt-ending-itis’ and I really wanted Dean to get a chance to answer Zechariah. Also, Zechariah isn’t the name of any angel that I can find. He was a prophet. However there is an angel named Zachriel, also called Zazriel, Zarachiel and Serachiel among other names, whose description and duties seemed to fit what the angel does in this episode.

Sam Wesson left the sea of cubicles, got in the elevator, rode it to the ground floor and marched resolutely out the front door of Sandover Bridge and Iron, Inc.

He hadn’t taken two steps away from the building when the realization of who he actually was hit him with the force of a runaway train. He actually staggered.

“I knew it,” he muttered, catching his breath.

“Of course you did,” Raethaniel’s voice said beside him.

He whipped around in a defensive stance, fully prepared to be angry with her for whatever part she had played in this, wondering exactly what she had wanted to talk to the angel of deception about. He was blazing with incomprehension and horror at what they had just been through. He and Dean could have been killed, fighting blind like that.

Raeth held up her hands in surrender. ”It wasn’t me,” she said, quickly. “I had nothing to do with this and if I could have removed you from it sooner, I would have. You were being hidden from me, by a power greater than mine.”

“What. Is going. On?” Sam said through gritted teeth, shoulders rising and falling slowly with contained anger. “Where is my brother?”

“Nothing is happening to Dean at the moment,” she assured him. “Castiel will get him.”

“Get him from where?”

Sam was standing in the middle of the sidewalk looking as solid and immovable as Gibraltar. His fists were clenched and the all the muscles in his long arms were corded.

“At the moment he is still inside the building, with Zechariah.”

“Who?” Sam seemed to pounce on the name, as if it were the next to be added to the long list of things he had killed.

“One of my brothers,” she said, “He goes by many names, including the name of the prophet. You might know him as Zachriel?”

Sam shook his head, too frustrated and worried about Dean to bother accessing his knowledge of the angels at the moment.

“The angel of memory,” she supplied, “You can’t kill him, Sam. I’m not even certain I could.”

“The angel of _memory_?” Sam growled.

“Can we get off the sidewalk?” She asked, “We’re attracting attention.”

“Sure,” Sam said, and then made as if to walk back into the building. Raeth caught his arm but let go when he shook her off. He always moved with the grace of a dancer. For all his height and breadth, Sam knew where his body was and how it worked. There was always something lethal in the way he moved. “I’m going to get my brother. Don’t try to stop me.”

It was a statement of will and Raeth wouldn’t have considered trying to stop him. He stormed back inside Sandover Bridge and Iron as if he was going to take it apart with his bare hands until he found Dean.

Fearing for the safety of the security personnel at the front desk, Raeth rushed in after him and grabbed his arm, clinging to it forcefully this time. Her strength surprised him, because she had never used it against him before. This time he couldn’t shake her off.

“Come with me,” she pleaded. “I’ll take you to your brother and you won’t have to commit murder on the way.”

That appealed to Sam, so he let her lead him to a more secluded corner and then they vanished from the lobby. They reappeared in front of the door that still said _Dean Smith._

Dean was confronting a man Sam had previously known as one of the company execs.

“Zechariah, I assume,” Sam said, as he strode into the room, unafraid and still mighty angry.

Raethaniel crept in behind him, head down. Sam was tall and broad enough to block all the light coming in the windows.

“Ah, the other Winchester,” Zechariah said as if pleased. “I wondered when you’d show up.”

Sam either chose not to answer or was too angry to form any more words. At any rate he was stopped from answering when Castiel appeared beside Dean.

Castiel had chosen to appear a few inches in front of Dean so that, unseen by the men, his substantial left wing was unfurled and held up as a shield between Dean and Zechariah. Emboldened by her brother’s actions, Raeth stretched a wing forward and curled it around Sam. Her angel blade slipped closer to her hand but she shivered with the idea of actually using it.

She saw Zechariah’s eyes narrow, a dangerous sign. Undeterred, Castiel said, “With all due respect, Zachriel, if you’re finished with these men we’ll be taking them with us.”

There was no respect in Castiel’s tone. He sounded like he meant to take Dean even if Zachriel objected. His voice echoed in her bones and chilled the air around her. The hilt of her angel blade moved closer to her palm. The threat of unrestricted and potentially deadly power hung in the room, untapped, but absolute.

Raeth flexed her wing, preparing to move if she had to, to get Sam behind her and away from danger to the best of her ability. She saw Sam glance swiftly around, as if he had felt something. He shouldn’t have been able to feel anything, confirming her suspicion that Sam was more sensitive to the supernatural than he usually let on.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Castiel,” Zechariah snapped. “My orders are from Michael.”

“So are mine,” Castiel and Raethaniel spoke in unison. The challenge remained in the room, unspoken.

“Your orders are to keep them alive,” The Angel of Memory answered. “Mine are to get them to accept what they have to do. Let’s not argue about this. I didn’t harm either one of them.”

“You put them in a place we couldn’t reach, hidden from us,” Castiel said, “in a situation they were ill-equipped to survive.”

“That was my right,” Zechariah answered.

“You have no right to endanger their lives like that,” Raethaniel spoke up, emboldened by Castiel’s presence and support. She and Castiel both drew their power from fire. Zachriel drew his from water. Combined they might be able to overwhelm the angel of memory.

“And what would _you_ , an angel of the Third Heaven, know about it?” Zechariah asked, scathingly.

Her temper flared and she raised both wings, casting a shadow on the wall behind her.

“The Third Heaven is the Seat of our Father,” she replied, voice dripping with frozen fire, “the dwelling place _you_ pray to always have above your head. Be careful lest He hear how you mock those who serve the Holy Place.”

The light in the room darkened, flickered in the stare down that ensued between Raethaniel and Zachriel.

“We’re going to leave now,” Castiel said, trying to break the tension. “I suggest not trying to stop us.”

But Dean said, “Cas,” very quietly and put a hand on the angel’s arm.

The angel glanced at him, surprised. “What?”

“Give me a minute okay?” Dean said, “Guy asked me a question. I think I’ve got an answer.” He looked up at Zechariah, eyes ocean-green and hard, threatening to drown anyone who looked into them for too long. It was impossible to ignore the swirling energies in the room, the power that was barely leashed. But that power crashed straight into the unflinching wall that was Dean Winchester.

“Yeah, I’m a hunter and so is Sam,” he nodded at his brother, who shifted into an even more defiant stance and nodded back, For once Sam’s eyes were the same blazing shade of green as Dean’s. “I’ve never tried to be anything else or claimed to be anything else. So I don’t get the point of this whole exercise. You didn’t teach me anything about myself that I didn’t already know. But this crap…. This crap with angels and demons and the apocalypse, no hunter in the history of hunting has ever had to deal with this. Hunting is about vampires and werewolves and stuff out of Native American lore. It’s about salt and burned bones and Latin chants. It’s not about this. You don’t need a _hunter_ for this. I got sucked into this against my will but I’ll deal with it of _my own free will_ and none of your dickwad parlor games is going to change that. So if you don’t mind I’m going back to my life with the classic car and the hot chicks and the _actual fucking monsters_.”

By the time he was finished Zechariah looked like an oncoming storm. But Dean didn’t as much as blink. A heavy moment passed and then Castiel asked, stiffly, “Are we done here?”

With a sound like rolling thunder, Zechariah vanished.

Her angel blade retracted into its customary place and Raeth lowered her wings. She met Castiel’s eyes across the room and saw that he was looking at her with renewed respect. It was reassuring, even if the other angel looked like he was going to be physically sick.

“Raeth?” Sam said.

“Yes?”

“We’re ready to leave now. Can you take us to the car?”

Dean, who had just faced down one of the most powerful angels of the Lord in existence, looked up with alarm written on his face and said, “Oh, now wait a minute-“

But it was too late. Before he had finished, the angels had acted, removing the Winchesters from Sandover Bridge and Iron forever.


	28. Crime and Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a tag to the Rapture. How exactly did Castiel find out what was happening?

**NOW:**

The second time Raethaniel was forcefully dragged back to Heaven, it wasn’t for the verbal and physical lashing she had received the first time. This time she was chained beneath the great mountain like an animal, away from sun and wind and sky, unable to fly or even to see. Smothering beneath tons of earth, chains forged to hold angels digging through scales into the tender flesh beneath, she had never known such agony. The chains held her legs to the ground. Another chain looped around her body, pinning her wings, searing the feathers so that they fell in a shower of ashes whenever she moved. Fire could not touch her so the pain ran through her like shards of ice, tearing her apart.

Adding to the torment was her connection to Sam. They had not sundered it but left it intact. So when Sam was locked in the panic room and his private hell had begun, she felt every moment of it and was helpless to stop it. Sam’s screams echoed in her head, worse when he called out to her, her name a plea, begging _helpmehelpmehelpme….._ She hoped never to hear such a sound again.

For herself Raethaniel knew she would do all of it again. But for _Sam_ …..

**_THEN_ **

_Lamechiel met Castiel and Raethaniel in a distant and rarely used dimension. They were all in their vessels, hiding behind a veil of Lamechiel’s doing._

_“What is all this about?” Castiel demanded._

_Lamechiel turned large dark eyes to regard Castiel. There was respect and deep sadness in those eyes._

_“I am sorry, my brother,” he said. “What I have discovered is very disturbing to me. I considered not telling either of you. But-“_

_“Lamechiel,” Raeth interrupted, “Just please tell us.”_

_“You are being lied to. We are all being lied to, from the highest possible level. No wants you to stop Sam Winchester. He is on the path both angels and demons want. His path will take him straight to freeing Lucifer and starting the Apocalypse.”_

_“Angels don’t want that!” Raeth burst out, stunned._

_“The most powerful ones do,” Lamechiel insisted. “Michael, Raphael, the heads of every Heaven and some of the princes, Araquiel.”_

_“No,” Castiel breathed, “Araquiel is charged with protecting the Earth.”_

_“He has dominion over the earth,” Lamechiel corrected. “It seems that means he can do what he wants with it.”_

_“But why?” Raeth cried, anguished._

_“They think they can win, defeat Lucifer and the demons and bring about paradise on Earth.”_

_For a stunned moment neither Castiel nor Raethaniel could speak. The depth of a conspiracy like this…. The degree of betrayal was unfathomable._

_“And if we stop Sam?” Cas asked._

_“He seems to be the key to this,” Lamechiel replied. “Killing Lilith will free Lucifer. But, my brother and sister, we’ll be defying the most powerful of Heaven if we stop him, perhaps even our Father Himself.”_

_Castiel and Raethaniel exchanged anguished glances. They shared a long silent communication, both caught up in what they had learned about Sam and Dean and the need to protect them. Realization dawned, painful and horrible._

_“They made me Sam’s guardian because they didn’t think I was strong enough to see through all of this,” Raeth said, tears rising in her eyes. “They made me his guardian because they thought even if I did I would be too weak and afraid to stop them. I’ve been nothing but a pawn moved into place and used.”_

_“No one expected that it would be me who reached Dean in Hell,” Castiel said. He was shaking. His gruff voice sounded even more as if it was being raked over hot coals. “Not a mere foot soldier, not even one in the garrison of Uriel, not strong enough, not driven enough to accomplish something that would bind me to Dean forever. I have to tell him.”_

_Her tear filled eyes widened in horror. “You’ll be punished. That has happened to me once already, for questioning too much.”_

_“I don’t care,” Castiel growled. “This is wrong. Those two men deserve to make this choice of their own free will, no matter what they have been groomed for over centuries.”_

_“Sam would never choose this,” she answered. “If that’s what they have been trying to do for centuries – turn him into our brother’s disciple – they’ve failed; or they’ve moved too soon. Sam is willingly turning himself into a monster to stop all of this not to start it. This will kill him if we don’t put an end to it before he frees our brother.”_

_“I’ll go tell Dean. Dean will bring Sam and I can try to talk sense to both of them. If Sam is too deeply into his addiction maybe Dean can still stop him; and then only one of us will suffer the wrath of Heaven. Stay here and protect Lamechiel,” Castiel said. Then he turned to the other angel, “You, stay here and protect Raethaniel.” When they both started to protest, he silenced them, holding up his hand, “I outrank both of you. There will be some measure of protection in that. Stay here. I’ll go to Dean.”_

_He vanished with a rush of wings, leaving the other two angels staring at each other helplessly._

_“I can’t just stay here,” Lamechiel said sadly. “Not knowing what I do now. I’m going to try to warn as many of the others as I can.”_

_“I’m sorry I asked you to do this, to try to find out what was going on. I’m not sorry that we know, but I am sorry if punishment falls on you because of it,” Raeth told him._

_“This is my doing, Raethaniel,” he replied. “I did not have to tell you or Castiel anything at all. I chose to do that.”_

_Raethaniel nodded. Once an angel chose to do something on his own it was automatically rebellion. There was no free will for angels._

_“I can’t stay here either,” she said, “not with Sam in danger.” Her greater brothers had underestimated her. They had committed her to a Gate for most of her existence, tamped down her demon hunting instincts, until the rise of Enepsigos’ offspring had made it necessary to return her to that duty. But now her demon hunting instincts were combined with a fierce ability to guard; and they had made the mistake of giving her Sam Winchester instead of the Third Heaven’s Gate. “The last thing I was ordered to do was to protect him. They can do whatever they want to me. But they can’t have Sam. Not like this.”_

_She changed into her dragon form and rose, then flattened her wings against her body and dove straight back into the other dimension, the one that held Sam._

_Sam! Her heart was set on that one goal. Sam, stop! She willed the thought to him, sent it on an angel’s spear thread, hoping his supernatural sense would hear it somehow._

_She was hurtling towards the Earth, straight for Sam, when they caught her._

_A sound like thunder accompanied her unwilling return to Heaven. Raethaniel thrashed and fought but she was being held in the power of the archangels. Even struggling slightly was considered rebellion but she was beyond caring. Her only goal was Sam._

_But she would not attain it. The Third Heaven appeared and vanished before her and she was plunged into darkness. Chains snapped into place and the agony began….._

**NOW**

Raethaniel threw herself against her chains, ice/fire sizzled and branded, bit deep into her body as she did. She threw her head back and roared in fury, pain and frustration.

_Sam!_


	29. Firebird

She had never known emotion before; not like this. Now there was rage and terror at the thought of another war in heaven, mirrored by a war on Earth. The first war her rebellious brother had unleashed in heaven had been horrible beyond imagining. Horrible beyond imagining, no one had ever wanted to see it again. But what happened, she wondered now, when the truly rebellious ones seemed to be the angels who were in charge?

Beloved Michael, whom she had never met but adored…. Blessed Raphael powerful and terrifying….. Mysterious Uriel, who had died at the hands of another angel…. Gentle, mischievous Gabriel, long lost but not forgotten. Could Gabriel have talked his brothers out of their current march towards war and madness? No one would ever know.

This was a heartbreak that knew no bounds, that spilled over into tears that rained as liquid fire from dragon eyes and splashed on the cold hard stone below her feet. There was no way to measure time anymore. She could have been here for days or years, mourning her brothers and sisters, helpless, aching for Sam…..

When she first heard the noise coming from above her head, she wasn’t at all sure it was something real. First it was just scratching. Then dirt and stones rained down on her head. When the first glimmer of heaven’s light began to filter through the cracking earth, Raethaniel backed up as far as the chain around her neck would allow and crouched. She bared her teeth, unsheathing the one long fang that was her angel blade. She had no idea who was coming for her but she wasn’t going down without a fight.

A gigantic paw broke through, claws out and one glinted as only an angel blade could. Raethaniel surged forward and lashed out with fangs and claws. Her mouth snapped shut just as the paw was swiftly withdrawn.

“Raethaniel!” The voice of Dalquiel rang against the stone around her, his truevoice, the one only angels could bear to hear. “Stand down. I am here to help you!”

She swung her head back and forth in agitation, almost numb to the pain now, driven by it.

“You put me here!”

“No, I did not,” he answered. “That was Anahiel and she was acting on orders from Zechariah.”

“Where were _you_?” She snarled. Raethaniel was still crouched, ready to spring again, maddened by confinement and pain.

“I was putting down a rebellion,” he growled back, “until I found out _why_ the angels were rebelling. Now, _stand down_ and let me free you. That’s an order from the Angel Prince of the Third Heaven.At least I still hold that title. I do not know for how much longer.”

“Why?” Raeth asked, barely able to understand what was happening, suspicious. ”Why are you setting me free?”

She had allowed Dalquiel to make the hole large enough for his huge head to appear, gazing down at her, eyes glowing red. She was still crouched, waiting to be able to lunge at him again, knowing the limits of her chains.

“I will not allow you to stay trapped down here,” Dalquiel said, “You need to help us fight to end this. You need to help us stop them.”

“Who?”

“The ones who will bring Armageddon down on the world,” Dalquiel cried, anguished. “The angels committed to the Apocalypse.”

“Then stop Sam Winchester!”

“We are being blocked,” the Bear rumbled, angry.

Raethaniel snarled again.

“How many have rebelled?” she asked.

The Great Bear abruptly vanished. In its place was a young boy, perhaps ten years of age, brown-skinned and barefoot, wearing simple shorts and a t-shirt. The boy dropped down to land lightly on his feet, dwarfed now by Raethaniel’s claws. He drew his angel blade.

“Not enough,” he murmured sadly. “Now stand still. Only an angel blade will cut these chains.”

“Do you think I didn’t try that?” She snapped.

“Of course you did,” Dalquiel said, more softly now, as he eyed the twisted burn running up Raethaniel’s right foreleg. “I imagine you tried breathing fire on them and even reverting to your vessel. None of that worked, of course. These chains were forged to hold angels. Hold still. I will be careful but I could still cut you.”

Raethaniel clamped her mouth shut and resolved to remain unmoving. She was shaking from fatigue and pain. But now there was hope.

She was getting out this prison. But she wasn’t going to help fight her own brothers and sisters. When she got out of here, she was heading straight for the Gate and if she had to battle her way through, then so be it.

But she was going to get to Sam and she was going to stop him. If only it wasn’t too late…..

(0)

The battle in the Third Heaven was already raging. The skies were filled with angels in the vessels and in their trueforms. Lightning flashed as angel blades met and clashed. Angels fell as some of those blades caused lethal wounds, tumbling down like falling stars.

Raethaniel shut it all out the best she could, dodging and wheeling, diving when she had to. She had no interest in fighting her brethren. Her only purpose was to find Sam Winchester and stop him. She heard the voice of Baradiel in her head, an order to stand and fight from her garrison leader.

She ignored it, though doing so broke her already shattered heart into even smaller pieces.

Her flight was pure agony. Her wings were badly burned and ached from being chained for so long. Her pain increased with each stroke that kept her in the air.

The Gate loomed before her. Lamechiel and Peniel were engaged in fierce combat. She had no idea if the Gate’s Guardians were trying to start the Apocalypse or end it before it began. She was fairly certain that Lamechiel had been as horrified as she and Castiel. It was also possible that they were just doing what the Guardians had always done – not letting anything in or out without permission.

Raeth knew that she didn’t have permission of any kind. But she could have wept fresh at the idea of fighting Lamechiel or Peniel. In her present state, she would never

As the approached the Gate, Lamechiel slew Harmaiel by driving his angel blade straight into the other angels throat. Peniel closed with Darmariel. The Great Raven caught the Ram in his claws and they tumbled together in the sky, locked in battle.

“Lamechiel!” Raethaniel cried, “Open the Gate.”

“May our Father forgive me, Raethaniel,” he cried in return, “I cannot. The Gate will not open.”

Intent on a swift exit as the Gate opened, Raethaniel was forced to back wing, sending waves of pain into her spine. She ground her teeth.

“What?” She managed to ask, stunned.

“It is Sealed,” Lamechiel told her.

A wave of helplessness overtook her. The need to reach Sam was suddenly more important than her Grace, though what she could do without her Grace was a mystery.

She was staring at Lamechiel, into the eyes of the swirling tornado of water and lightning, when the air around them seemed to shimmer. All the colors of the sunset bloomed and melted together. Like a specter came the shining figure of a Fire Bird.

Its wings spanned the heavens. Emerald eyes glittered with power and majesty. It was beautiful beyond words and terrifying beyond imagining. Fire trailed from its wings and tail in blazing plumes.

_Michael, the Greatest of the Archangels, He Who Is As Great As God._

Raethaniel tried to say his name but it ended in a soft, frightened whimper.

Around her the battle staggered to a halt as one by one and then in groups the angels of the Third Heaven realized who was now among them. They fell to the ground willingly now, knees bent, heads bowed, wings tucked tightly, trueforms and vessels alike.

Raethaniel shrank down into her vessel, knelt and lowered her head.

The silence was overwhelming after the din of battle. There was nothing but the steady beating of the Great Fire Bird’s wings.

The voice was only in her mind but she knew what it was. It was Michael.

She dared to look up, into the eyes of green flame. She couldn’t find her voice at all.

“Go,” Michael said out loud.

It was then that she realized the Gate was standing open. It had nothing to do with courage, after that. She was driven only by her fear for Sam Winchester.

“I….” She began, swallowed and tried again, “I need to-“

“I know what you need to do,” Michael interrupted and she dropped her head and trembled violently. “Go!”

She was on her feet instantly, burned wings unfurled and carrying her into the air and through the Gate. She flew as fast as she could, ignoring pain. She set her attention on finding Sam and dove into the dimension that separated Heaven from Earth.

 _Hold on, Sam_ , she thought, _I’m coming……_

(0)

 

 

 


	30. Shades of Grey

There didn’t seem to be anything to add to Chuck’s tersely worded assessment of the situation. Dean was still scowling, looking inward as if he was imagining somehow ripping Zechariah into a million tiny, mutilated pieces, while wrapping a piece of fabric around his bleeding hand. Sam looked around the ruined remains of Chuck’s house and wondered if they could even begin to help him straighten it up. He had a deep need to _do_ something, even if it was just sweeping up glass and righting furniture.

He had taken one step towards a chair lying on its side when Chuck got a panicked look on his face and said, “Oh god.”

“What?” Dean asked, coming to attention, alert in ways that only a hunter could be.

“Another angel,” Chuck said, trembling.

Sam and Dean shared a single, communicative look and even though Sam swallowed hard and all the muscles in Dean’s jaw rippled with tension, they stood ready.

They were, however, not prepared for what happened next. The angel that appeared in Chuck’s shattered living room was not one they feared or hated. It was Raethaniel.

Her hair was snarled as if she had been caught in a gale force wind. Her face was streaked with dirt and scratches. Her clothes were tattered, the sweater torn enough to reveal deep bruises and what looked like burns. There was a ring of burns around her right wrist.

“Sam,” she gasped out.

He was standing there as if he had been turned to stone, sunlight gilding his dark hair like a halo. His face was ghostly pale with darkness like bruises around his eyes. He look disheveled and disoriented, but something fierce ignited in his eyes as he looked at her.

There was no way to calculate the range of emotions that washed over Sam – shock, horror at her condition, blessed relief that she was alive and he wasn’t responsible for one more death. He stared at her transfixed for too long before his heart lurched back to life and he could get his legs to move.

Then he was covering the distance between them with long, ground-eating strides, feeling as if his soul was coming apart. Raeth almost took a step back because Sam Winchester striding towards her was like being in the path of an oncoming semi. For a moment Raethaniel was sure that he would break her like so much fragile glass.

Consumed by a frantic need to touch him and the knowledge that even in her weakened state Sam probably couldn’t hurt her, not even if he struck her with the full force of his massive frame, Raeth opened her arms and stepped forward to meet him.

To her stunned amazement, Sam wrapped her up tight in his arms, lifted her feet off the floor and kissed her. Tears burned her eyes as she kissed him back, put her arms around his neck and clung to his lean hard strength.

They broke off when Dean cleared his throat rather dramatically and Raethaniel whimpered because – no matter that being held by Sam and reassured of the simple truth of his continued existence – she _hurt_ in all the same places Sam was hugging tight.

He let her go instantly, put her back on her feet, steadied her with his beautiful hands on her hips and bent over to look into her eyes.

“What happened to you?”

She shook her head but that made her dizzy and she regretted it. “My trueform is badly damaged and it’s putting a strain on my vessel, trying to hold it together. I’ll be fine. I need to rest.” She swayed and he caught her again.

“Whoa, easy,” he said.

“I had to find you,” she said. Her hands were on his arms now, clinging. “I didn’t know where you were. So I came here to see if Chuck-“ She stopped and looked around, “It’s too late isn’t it?”

Sam’s eyes misted and he nodded. “Yeah. I’m so sorry-“

“You didn’t know,” she interrupted.

“I should have!” Sam said, anguished.

Raethaniel wanted to argue with him, make him understand the depth to which they had all been betrayed. But the time spent chained in a prison that was separate from Time was catching up to her. She wasn’t so much standing as hanging onto Sam. She tried to find words and then gave up.

Exhausted, Raethaniel collapsed. Sam caught her, lowering her to the ground, dropping to one knee and supporting her. Eyes closed, her head fell back, revealing the deep burn circling her throat.

Sam muttered a curse under his breath. Dean joined him, kneeling down and putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder. They locked eyes again briefly.

“We need to find a place to lay low for a bit and sort this out,” he said, “Call Bobby. Come on, we’ll take her with us.”

“Shouldn’t we take her to a hospital or something?” Sam said.

“She’s an angel,” Dean reminded him. “I’m not they could help; or how we’d explain what’s happened to her.”

“We don’t _know_ what’s happened to her,” Sam said, exasperated.

They both fell silent, for once at a loss as how to proceed. Sam looked so lost that in that moment all Dean could see was the little brother who had once looked up to him, who had sought him out in the middle of the night when bad dreams had woken him, standing by the side of the bed in the dark, whispering, “ _Dean! Dean! Can I sleep here with you?”_ Sam had never gone to Dad, not once. He always went to Dean, because Dean had a way of washing away all the fear, coloring their childhood in shades of trust and brotherhood that covered all the shades of gray.

The way Sam was looking at him now, it was just like those old times, when he had been just a kid and he needed to hear that it was all right, that everything was all right.

Dean was furious with Sam, beyond furious really. He wanted to choke his little brother with his bare hands. He wanted to take him into an alley and beat the crap out of him, even though long experience told him that Sam would just take it, wouldn’t lift a finger to defend himself. He’d suffer the pain as a form of penance and not say a word even after he was broken and bloody on the ground.

But _that_ look…. That shipwrecked look from Sam was Dean’s undoing. It took him apart at a cellular level and refused to let him do anything but fix it, make it right for Sam again, no matter what.

“Okay,” Dean said, taking charge, getting ready to fix it, if only temporarily. “We don’t need to know what happened to know it was bad. But she said she’s all right,” which was more than they could say about Castiel, but Dean didn’t mention that again. It was too painful. “She said she needs to rest. So we’ll do that for her.”

Hope ignited in his brother’s eyes.

“Okay, Dean,” Sam said.

(0)

 

 


	31. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing missing scenes from Sympathy for the Devil. This is later in the hotel room.

The motel room was dingy and old. It had probably not been updated since the 1970s, if then, and only with the cheapest of materials. The wallpaper was peeling. The rug was stained and the sheets and quilts on the double beds were better left without close inspection. The popcorn ceiling was water stained and yellowed.

It was raining outside in a relentless downpour that seemed determined to continue until the end of time, making the room dull and gray.

To Raethaniel it looked like heaven on earth, compared to prison from which she had escaped. She was sitting on the bed, on the questionable quilt, watching Sam apply the gel like substance that was dripping out of the broken piece of aloe plant to her wrist.

Sam’s actions were calm and gentle, holding her hand to keep her wrist steady and stroking the sticky plant across the burn with accomplished grace, as if he had performed the task countless times before. His hands were large, long-fingered and he used them cautiously, as if he was used to everything being too small, too breakable, too fragile compared to his strength.

“You think this will help?” She asked.

“I know it will,” he smiled a little but it didn’t reach into his eyes. Those were still shadowed, haunted, as clouded as the day outside their grimy hotel window. “We’ve used it before. It’s not like Dean and I can always go to a doctor.”

“I’m an angel,” she told him, hoping to lighten the mood.

Sam looked up from his work on her wrist.

“I know, but it’s still skin, isn’t it? I hope this will help your vessel hold onto your trueform while it heals.”

Raeth didn’t make any further comments or protests. It was obvious to her that Sam was in pain too and not the kind that could be soothed with external balms. He needed to do something and if he thought he was helping her to heal, then she would let him.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Sam asked, softly. He put her hand down on her lap with exquisite tenderness and picked up the other one, pushing the sleeve of her sweater out of the way to treat the burn encircling that wrist.

“We found out what they were doing.”

“They?”

“The angels; or maybe it was what they weren’t doing.”

Sam’s eyebrows went up in question.

“There were angels who knew what Ruby was really doing and I swear to you, Sam, I wasn’t one of them. But it seems that they were all content to let it happen. Don’t ask me their reasons. I don’t know. I tried to get to you and warn you. Castiel was trying to do the same thing. I was stopped and imprisoned. These wounds are from the chains. I heard you calling me. I wanted to get to you, but I couldn’t. It was… awful. What was happening to you?”

“Nothing that matters now. Just my family watching out for me, really, even though it was pretty awful at the time.”

Remembering his anguished screams, Raeth stared at him. “Your family did that to you?”

“It’s okay,” he said, quickly. “I forgive them. Now I wish they had done it sooner.”

When it seemed obvious Sam wasn’t going to enlighten her any further on why he had been calling her as if he was being subjected to medieval torture, she said, “I don’t know what happened to Castiel.”

“Castiel is dead,” Sam said, “He died in Chuck’s house, trying to delay the archangels long enough for Dean to get to me. It didn’t work. He died for nothing.”

A vision flashed in Raethaniel’s head of Michael, terrifying and awe-inspiring. She tried to imagine going up against him and shivered violently. It would have been like a fly against a lion.

Sam mistook the shiver however. “Are you cold?”

“No,” she said, quickly. Tears sprang into her eyes to know that Castiel was gone. _Oh brother mine…._ “I just can’t believe he’s gone. I hadn’t really known him or worked with him for long, but I came to love him. He was my brother, in every sense of the word.”

“What about Lucifer?” Sam said. His voice was suddenly cold, even though his hands were still gentle. He finished with her wrist, wrapped it in gauze as if it were made of egg shell and then tipped her chin up to apply a new slice of aloe to her throat.

She looked at him sharply. There was more to that question than he was letting on. She knew that much about Sam. He had once wanted to be a lawyer. His ability to ask questions that led directly to the real information he wanted was uncanny. It was perhaps an innate talent.

“What about him?” She asked.

“Is he still your brother too?”

Centuries slipped away as Raethaniel remembered the First War in Heaven. Tears fell unheeded.

“Yes,” she said, voice choked by those tears. “Lucifer…. He betrayed us all and he suffered for it. He was locked away and I know he deserved it. But may my Father forgive me, Sam, he’s still my brother. The First War was …. Terrible beyond imagining. I don’t want to go through that again. Brother against Brother….”

Whatever Sam had been trying to discover, he set it aside in regret that his question had caused her so much pain. He set down the piece of aloe on the rickety and scratched up nightstand and gathered her into his arms.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, quietly.

“No,” she answered, voice muffled in his plaid flannel shirt. “You didn’t know; and if everything happened exactly the same with the information you had, you’d do the same thing all over again. Don’t deny it.”

He couldn’t deny it. So he just sat in silence and stroked his hand down the length of her windblown hair.

“I’m glad you’re all right,” he said, at a long while. “Are you safe from them? They won’t come to get you?”

“No,” she answered, “Michael sent me back, sent me to you. That should give me a measure of protection.”

“But why, why would he do that? He had to know it was already too late, that something had pulled me out of there and put me on that plane.”

“I don’t know, Sam.” She leaned back and looked up at him. “There’s so much I don’t know and I don’t understand. But I’m supposed to protect you and I’m going to continue to do that until I can’t anymore.”

“Yes, well,” Sam said, pushing her back against the pillows. “To take care of me, you’re going to have to get well again. I’m kind of a pain in the ass when it comes to being taken care of.” He gave her the rest of the aloe plant. “Can you finish putting this on? I’ve got to go out and get a few things. I’ll get you a new shirt too. This sweater has seen better days.”

“Something plaid?” She asked.

She’d hoped for a smile and got it. “I’ll try to avoid plaid,” he promised. “Dean went to get the Impala. He should be back soon but he won’t disturb you if he thinks you’re asleep.”

“Good to know,” she said, lying back and gritting her teeth against the pain of the burns across her back. Sam had started on her back and she could feel the sweater sticking to the aloe gel even through the gauze he had placed over it.

Sam stood up, fluidly but in slow motion. It was as if he was standing up under the weight of something crushing, so heavy that moving seemed to take more strength than he had to give.

“Sam,” she said, as he walked towards the door.

“Yeah?”

“Your brother loves you too,” she said.

Sam appeared to ponder that for a moment and then said, with his hand on the door, “I’m not worried about whether Dean loves me. I know he always will. Our relationship isn’t actually built on love. It’s built on trust; and if we’ve lost that, then we’ve lost everything.”

She didn’t have an answer for that because she knew it was true. Just as she loved Lucifer but could never trust him, not for an instant, so it was with Sam and Dean. Sam gave her a nod and told her to rest and then slipped out the door into the rain.


	32. Not Abandoned (Yet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later, in the hotel, when Sam returns with the hex bags:

Sam had never feared his father’s anger. Sometimes it had seemed like John was angry all the time. He was harsh with them when training and praise was reserved for the moment things had been done perfectly; and even then it was uttered as a terse grunt or a head nod. Sam’s praise had always been given by Dean. It had still been terse, sometimes ever surly, but it had been inspiring for Sam.

He was not going to get praise from Dean over this mess; nor did he deserve any. The problem was that he wasn’t getting forgiveness either. Dean was still on his side. In fact Dean had just said _we_ made a mess and _we_ will clean it up when in fact _Sam_ had made the mess and Dean was just sticking around to help clean it up. So they were still brothers and they had each other’s backs and no one had abandoned him (yet).

Right now he needed Dean’s forgiveness more than he needed air to breathe; and he wasn’t going to get it any time soon. Dean was currently laser-focused on working what he saw as just another case as a way of deflecting how furious he was.

Sam knew better than to try any pop psychology bullshit on Dean.

He really wished Dean would take a swing at him. He really wished Dean would beat the crap out of him until he was broken and bleeding on the floor. He should _hurt_ because of what he had done. Instead he was fine. He felt better than he’d felt in a long time, the addiction beaten, the cravings gone.

It was Castiel who had paid for Sam’s actions with his life and Raeth (lying immobile, identifiable only by the fan of blond hair spilling out from under the sheet and quilt) who had been tortured for it.

But he knew that Dean knew that Sam would just take it and Dean had never hit Sam more than once if Sam wasn’t fighting back.

So Sam stopped worrying about what he needed and started to worry about what Dean needed. Dean was angry but he didn’t usually act on his anger. Dean was always so damned sure of himself that his confidence always crowded out everything else. There was no room for Sam’s uncertainties. There never had been. So Sam put everything else aside and focused in on Dean’s brash, ballsy self-assurance, on Dean’s limitless belief that they were on the right side and that everything would come out golden in the end.

He nodded and smiled a little when Dean pronounced that they just had to go find the devil. Then he changed the subject.

“How is Raeth?”

Dean shrugged. “Hasn’t moved since getting under the covers. She said she was cold, so I told her to do that. Then she stopped moving and hasn’t made a sound.”

“Is she breathing?” Sam asked, suddenly alarmed.

“Does she need to?” Dean countered.

Then the brothers just stared at each other, realizing how little they actually understood about the way vessels worked.

“She told me once that if an angel dies while in a vessel their wings are pulled back into this dimension with so much force they leave scorch marks,” Sam remembered.

They both glanced at the bed. Nothing looked scorched.

“Well then,” Dean said, “I guess she’s getting better in her own angelic way. Maybe it’s like that Vulcan thing.”

“Vulcan thing?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said, “Remember watching Star Trek on that ratty TV in Bobby’s living room and when Spock got hurt he would just lay down and go into a coma and then he’d get up and that other doctor would smack the shit out of him to wake him up?”

Sam cocked his head and regarded his brother. For two kids who grew up either on the road with a semi-alcoholic father who hunted paranormal crap or were left in the care of a semi-alcoholic single old man who did the same thing, Sam realized that Dean had always managed to sneak in a good amount of suburban normalcy to their lives.

When Sam didn’t answer Dean prompted him. “What, were you not watching the show? Were you off reading _Little Women_ instead?”

“Shut up,” Sam said, “Like Bobby had a copy of _Little Women_ laying around the house.”

“You had a library card,” Dean reminded him.

Sam’s throat closed up, a little tight and dry, because yeah, he’d had a library card because Dean had dragged him to the hole-in-the-wall library once when they were in town to get supplies and gotten him one. He’d been stunned to learn he could take out all the books he wanted. All he had to do was bring them back.

It was the best present Dean had ever given him, for all that it had been free.

He cleared his throat and began, “I didn’t read-“ and had to stop to clear his throat again before he could finish. “I didn’t read _Little Women_ at Bobby’s. I read it the summer I turned 8 because I found it under the bed in some motel room; and I’m not going to hit Raeth when she wakes up.”

Dean shook his head but it was in agreement. “Naw,” he said, “I wouldn’t recommend that.” Then he said, “Okay, bro. Let’s get this thing started. Let’s go find the devil.”


	33. Oh. My. God.

Sam was used to weird. His life had always been weird. It still was. Weird was their normal. But the young woman currently babbling at them with a garbled message from Chuck about swords and castles and dogs was not something he’d ever prepared for. He wasn’t used to having ‘groupies’ or ‘fan girls’, and he had no idea to deal with it kindly. He wasn’t even used to people knowing his real name, much less being worshipped as some kind of fantasy come to life. She seemed to think that he must be okay with her just because she had read the story of his life and thought she understood who he was. It was hard to understand the level of intimacy Becky was assuming considering they had never met.

Finally he just asked her politely to stop touching him.

Shockingly she declined as if she had a right to, one hand still pressing against his ribs, leaving Sam without a clue how to withdraw.

Sam gave Dean a pleading look that he knew wasn’t going to be answered. Dean was enjoying the whole thing way too much. Sam could tell by the smirk on his brother’s face and the wicked gleam in his eye.

Sam had almost forgotten that there was another occupant in the room. Raeth had been so quiet and so still that it was easy to forget. But when Becky didn’t remove her hand from Sam’s chest a stiff breeze blew through the hotel room, as if the door had been flung open. It ruffled the pages of their father’s journal and moved the shabby curtains.

Raeth had always looked like an angel to Sam; and now when she spoke he was sharply reminded that she was, in fact, one of heaven’s warriors. Her voice was low and yet it filled the room.

“He asked you to stop touching him.”

Sam looked up and Becky whirled around. Raeth had somehow gotten out of bed without disturbing the blankets. She was on her feet, looking much less disheveled and much more like a dragon guarding its possession. It was in her eyes, Sam realized, a subtle change from their usual gilded brown to multifaceted gold ringed in blue.

“Raeth,” Sam said, warningly.

Becky didn’t seem particularly fazed. Her eyes got bigger. “Oh. My God. You’re an angel!”

“Raeth,” Sam repeated, trying to sound reasonable. “It’s okay. She wasn’t actually hurting me.”

Sam wasn’t sure it would do any good. He really didn’t know if he had any control over her or not. The bruise on her neck was faded but still visible. The other wounds were still under gauze. Raeth was tired and hurting; but her last order had been to protect him.

“Wow,” Becky continued to gush, oblivious to the real danger she could be in. “A real angel.”

She walked forward with a hand out as if she was going to touch Raethaniel and Sam lunged forward to grab her. He shot Dean one more look, asking for help, but his brother just grinned and sat back on the bed like he wished he had popcorn.

Sam got a hand around Becky’s arm and stopped her just before she laid a hand on Raeth. Sam caught a hint of the shadow of her wings starting to appear on the walls but that faded when he pulled Becky back.

“No, no. Let’s not touch the angel right now, okay?” He said.

For her part, Becky seemed to have forgotten all about the angel in the process of being hauled away by Sam. In fact, she looked like the whole thing was about to make her faint.

“Ohh, Sam,” she sighed and then giggled. She worked with the momentum of Sam’s backward pull to practically fall against him full length. Sam got her by the shoulders and stood her up on her feet.

It didn’t help that Dean was covering choked laughter by coughing into his fist.

“Let’s just not do any more touching,” Sam said, betraying that he was close to losinghis patience. “Look, thank you for bringing us the message. How did you get here? Are you parked nearby.”

“No, I took the bus,” she said.

Sam gaped at her. “You-you took the bus? Into this neighborhood?” The he shook his head, eyes closed. “Okay. I’ll drive you home. Dean! Keys?”

“I’ll go with you,” Raethaniel said, quickly.

Dean tossed the keys across the room and Sam caught them without looking. Becky looked thrilled, wide-eyed and giddy.

“Are you well enough to go with me?” Sam asked, studying Raeth carefully.

“Am I well enough to sit in the Impala? Yes, I think I can handle that.”

Sam frowned because that sounded an awful lot like sarcasm and he wasn’t sure the angel could be sarcastic. But then Raeth looked straight at Becky and said, “Shotgun,” and Sam realized she was learning to live in the 21st century pretty quickly.

Becky looked disappointed and Sam hoped she didn’t realize the old Impala’s front seat was a bench and then insist on sitting next to him. He got his battered jacket and herded the women out the door.

“You three have fun,” Dean said in a tone dripping with innuendo.

Becky giggled and said, ‘oh my god’ again. Sam gave Dean a long-suffering look. Raeth looked quizzically at Sam.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam said.

“Bitch,” Dean called back.

“Jerk,” Sam retorted as he slammed the door.

Becky was still giggling and saying, ‘oh my god,’ as if she was in on some private joke; and Raethaniel was looking at Sam as if he had lost his mind.

But something about the old ritual made Sam feel better. Dean hadn’t forgiven him. But Dean didn’t hate him either. He put an arm around Raeth’s waist and a hand under Becky’s elbow and guided them in the direction of the Impala.


	34. Demon Hunter

Sam managed to get Becky home and settled. She had kept Sam standing at her front door for much longer than necessary and repeatedly telling her that no, he didn’t want to come in, no, he didn’t want a drink or food or anything else. He had repeatedly reassured her that they were fine and gave her a contact phone number (though the phone number he gave her to contact them was Dean’s). Then finally Sam reminded Becky that there was an angel waiting for him in the car and that the angel didn’t have all that much patience.

By the time he got back to the car (and his impatiently waiting angel) he was hungry and tired and they still had a two hour drive back to the hotel. He got into the front seat with a heavy sigh and combed his fingers through his hair in an attempt to wake up.

“I’m going to hit the first drive-thru I see. Do you want anything?”

Raethaniel shook her head. “No. I need to conserve my energy.”

When he looked at her in question she tried to explain, “Eating isn’t something I have to do. It’s better if I don’t.”

“Okay,” he said, starting the car.

The first place with food that he saw wasn’t a drive-thru it was an all-night mini-mart. He got the biggest coffee they offered, a banana, an apple and a bear claw. He also got two bottles of water. Then he put the highest octane gas possible into the Impala before hitting the interstate back to Maryland.

The ride was quiet and Sam tried to focus on the road. He ate the banana and part of the bear claw, but then stopped. His stomach was too clenched to eat more. It had been knotted up ever since Ruby had revealed her true intentions, as Lilith’s blood was spinning into the spiral that would free Lucifer.

But his overheated brain kept replaying the events that had brought them to this point, the things he had done. It wasn’t a good thing to dwell on while trying to stay awake and drive safely. He wasn’t sure Dean would give a rat’s ass if he got himself killed. But if he wrecked the Impala Dean would resurrect him just to kill him again. So he finally asked Raeth,

“You want to listen to some music?”

She looked startled for a moment and then. “If you do, that’s fine.”

“Well, we have the limited assortment of Dean’s co-“ He broke off abruptly because he had been about to say ‘cock rock’. He cleared his throat instead because he was pretty sure he shouldn’t say that to an angel. Sometimes the fact that he lived in a largely testosterone driven environment caught up with him. “Umm, Dean’s eighties rock tapes,” he went on blithely, “or I can find something on the radio.”

“Whatever you want,” she said.

“Or I can just shut up and let you rest,” he said.

“No, I’m fine for the moment,” she said, “We can talk if you need to stay awake. It was very kind of you to offer to take Becky home.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t realize exactly how far away she lived,” Sam admitted. “But I feel better knowing she got home safely.” Even if he had exhausted himself even more…. But perhaps he’d sleep finally. He’d been afraid to close his eyes since the events in Ilchester. He glanced at Raeth. She was looking out the windshield looking relaxed. He took a breath and asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” she said, turning so she was looking at him.

Her direct gaze was a little unsettling, so frank and so sure. He swallowed and then plunged on, because he had faced worse things than an angel. “Back in the hotel room,” he said, “I saw the shadow of your wings. They were more…. Battered than I realized, or thought they were.”

“I told you my trueform is badly damaged,” she reiterated.

“I know. I guess I didn’t realize how much. Will you be all right? Really?”

Raeth gazed back at him thoughtfully. They were at the beginning of the Apocalypse and Sam Winchester was still concerned with the safety of one fragile human female and one injured angel.

Maybe he was just using it to deflect from other larger issues. But Raethaniel didn’t think so. She was fairly certain at this point that Sam could deal with many things all at the same time. So waiting for Armageddon wouldn’t prevent him from worrying about whether or not Becky made it safely home.

“I will be fine,” she said, carefully. “It’s just going to take longer than usual.”

“Why?”

It wasn’t a statement of curiosity. It was a demand for information. She saw him swallow, as if he realized he was confronting an angel and didn’t care if that put him in danger or not.

“The Gates of Heaven are not just closed. They are sealed. I am cut off. I don’t know if it’s because I …..,” she stopped, unable to believe for a moment what she had done, “I rebelled or because of… what’s happening.”

“The Apocalypse,” Sam said, as if he was determined not to be afraid to say the word.

Raeth’s heart trembled for him. “It means ‘unveiling’,” she said, forgetting for a moment to whom she was talking.

Sam smirked and rattled off an encyclopedic knowledge of the Book of Revelation that lasted for a good ten minutes before he stopped talking. He hadn’t run out of information. He just figured he had made his point. He stopped, took the last few swallows of his coffee and tossed the cup in the bag on the floor.

“So I guess the next thing we have to look forward to is the appearance of the tetramorph,” he said, by way of concluding, “But I’m not actually too worried about that.”

“You’re not?” Raeth asked, with raised eyebrows.

“No, not really,” Sam answered, “If it’s alive it can be killed; and we have you with us now.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” he said, taking his eyes off the freeway to give her a hard look. The power of the night-deep ocean was in his eyes. “Raethaniel, the greatest of the demon hunters.”

“I’m just an angel, Sam,” she said, shaking her head, “a foot soldier.”

“Don’t say that,” his voice was as hard as his look had been but there was an edge of panic in it, “You’re the angel who took out Enepsigos. You captured Ziminiar and gave him into the control of King Solomon. He had the power of 72 demons and yet you defeated him. Surgat, the demon of hidden places and locks who used to terrorize children. He fell to your angel blade. Onoskelis, Vapula, Kokabiel-“

“Sam, stop,” she said and he could hear the catch in her voice. She was suddenly ghost-pale, heart-breakingly lovely. She brushed her palms across her cheeks. Was she crying?

“What?” Sam asked gently.

“Those last two are fallen angels. They were my siblings; and yes, I killed them, but I …. I take no pride in that.”

“I’ve done a lot of things I don’t take any pride in,” Sam answered. “It’s the job. It’s the life. But I need to know that you’re just as capable of doing what the job requires as any hunters and that you’re with me now.”

“I fled heaven for you,” she reminded him, gently, “I was imprisoned for you. I will do whatever I have to do now.”

The muscles in Sam’s jaw rippled and he swallowed again. “Sorry,” he told her, tightly. Then he struggled to relax. “No, I mean it. I don’t want to make you upset.”

“I’ll be fine, Sam. I just shouldn’t fly anywhere right now.”

“You shouldn’t have flown out of heaven,” he admonished her.

“I didn’t have any choice; and I’m here with you and here I will stay as long as you need me.” The night shadowed Raethaniel like an ivory carving. She turned to face him again, “Do you need to stop for a while? You’ve been driving for the better part of 3 hours now.”

Sam shook his head. He was worried about Dean now. His brother had been alone for those same 3 hours and Sam was pretty sure that he’d been wavering between a drink, a fight or a fuck. Sam was worried which one of the above Dean had picked, probably all of them. He’d texted Dean when they started back towards Maryland and gotten a terse ‘okay’ as a response. He didn’t want to call. He didn’t want to hear the disappointment in Dean’s voice that always seemed to be there now.

“No, we’re only an hour away,” Sam answered, sitting up straighter and moving his hand into a different position on the wheel, stretching to crack the kink forming in his back.

Raeth reached over and touched the back of his hand. Between one breath and the next, Sam felt better – rested, relaxed, the knot in his stomach gone, the tension headache vanished.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said, surprised but grateful. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I’m going to. Right now. I’ll just rest better knowing you’re going to get us back in one piece.”

“Fair enough,” he nodded, reaching for the rest of his bear claw.

She lay down across the seat and put her head up against his leg. Sam smiled a little and brushed her hair back off her face.

By the time they went under the next set of street lights illuminating an off ramp Raeth was asleep.

Sam bit into the apple he’d bought and focused on driving the Impala through the long dark night.

(0)

  


	35. I Am A Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sympathy for the Devil is a very complicated episode with a lot going on. There is probably one more chapter that will be a tag (after the credits). These are missing scenes. I am trusting that everyone is familiar enough with the episode to know where these scenes fit in.

Sam was having a hard time concentrating on the lore books in the small office of the church basement. Bobby’s vitriolic words were still ringing in his head, breaking his concentration. He slammed a book shut irreverently and sank back in the creaky desk chair, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to get it out of his eyes. He dug his fingers into his own skull in an attempt to block out the world but it didn’t help and with a heavy sigh he sat forward again.

He was reaching for another book when there was a sound like fine china shattering. He jumped up just as Raethaniel appeared in front of him, crouched, kneeling, bent over and breathing hard.

“Raeth!” He tried to help her get up but she waved him off.

“You have to go back to the hotel,” she gasped.

“Why?”

“Demons are attacking Dean.”

“Bobby?”

“Bobby was one of them. Sam go!”

He had his jacket in his hand and was racing for the door before she finished speaking. Raethaniel tried to follow but couldn’t. She collapsed onto the cold stone floor and with the last of her energy slipped into another dimension.

(0)

She had no way of knowing how long she had drifted there, unconscious. What she did know was that she was woken by the sound of Sam’s screaming. She got up, shaking, but she got up. Lifting her wings she launched into the air and dove towards him.

She fell more times than she could count. Sam stopped screaming, but she could feel him fighting pain and panic. Then she couldn’t feel him at all. Stumbling, staggering, Raethaniel fought her way back to Sam.

He seemed to come back to her one more time. She could sense him for a brief moment and then he vanished again. She broke through into his dimension, expecting to find him dead.

But he was standing up. Sam was fine. Dean was there too.

And so was Castiel.

(0)

The sound of breaking glass announced her arrival once more. Raethaniel landed on her feet, but she swayed for a moment, staring, eyes filled with shock and confusion.

Sam reached over and put a steadying hand under her elbow.

“Hey, you’ve got to quit doing this,” he said, gently.

But, even though she put her hand on Sam’s wrist and clung to him fiercely, Raeth couldn’t take her eyes off her brother. “ _Castiel_ ,” she murmured in hushed reverence.

Then she pushed away from Sam and walked straight into Castiel’s arms. Wrapping her arms around him she sighed, “My _brother_ , you’re alive.”

“Yes,” he answered, more gravelly than usual, holding her close.

“How?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, “How did you survive the prison they made for you? I tried to get to you. There were angel chains-“

“I don’t know,” she echoed, “Dalquiel helped me escape and Michael sent me here. That’s _all_ I know.”

She let go of Cas and looked once again at Sam. “Why can’t I sense you at all? I thought you were dead.”

Sam didn’t answer. In fact he stopped even making eye contact with her. He knew Raethaniel well enough by now to know she wasn’t going like what Castiel had done; not one little bit.

“I’ve hidden them behind an Enochian sigil,” Castiel said.

Raethaniel whirled back around. Sam winced and braced for the confrontation he knew was coming. He glanced at Dean, but Dean was watching Cas.

“You did what?” Raeth said, much too quietly.

“I hid them from the angels,” Cas reiterated.

“You hid them from _us_ , from _me_. How am I supposed to protect him if I can’t find him?” He voice rose slowly until it was a threatening snarl and as her voice went up so did the shadowed impression of her wings. Sam felt them brush past his face. They were even more frayed than before.

In response, Castiel’s own wings appeared and spread in a graceful fan of perfection.

“I can’t see Dean either, but this was the only way,” Cas replied, teeth clenched.

Raeth took a step forward and Cas stood up straighter. Their eyes were locked.

“How could you do this without asking me first? Sam is under _my_ protection!”

“Until a few seconds ago I didn’t know you were even alive much less that you had escaped heaven!”

“Raeth,” Sam said, quickly, stepping forward. “It’s all right. We’ll find a way.”

But even as Sam was speaking angel blades appeared in both their hands, pointed down but gleaming.

“Raeth!” Sam said, trying to stay calm. He’d just watched Castiel kill two angels without breaking stride. “You couldn’t step on an ant right now and kill it. Do you really think you’re going to survive Castiel?”

Dean pushed passed Sam and got between them.

“Okay, now everyone slow down. Hold up before you start going all angelic on each other’s asses,” Dean held up a hand towards each one, as if he was physically keeping them apart. “Look, Raeth I know you’re mad. But that’s your brother. A minute ago you were nothing but overjoyed that he was alive and now you want to kill him yourself. I get that. I’ve been there,” he glanced at Sam, who looked back with an expression of guilt and hurt flickering briefly on his face. “So has Sam,” Dean went on, softening the look he was getting from his brother. “But you weren’t here just now. Zechariah tortured and then murdered Sam and if this stops that from ever happening again then I’m okay with it; and you should be too. You want to protect Sam and I’m totally down with that. You can become his second shadow if you want. But going up against Cas isn’t going to accomplish anything. ”

“Zechariah killed Sam?” Raeth sounded breathless, horrified.

Cas’s angel blade disappeared. “Yes,” he said, gently. “I forced him to heal Sam.”

“ _You_ did?” Her tone could not have been more scathing. “How? He’s your superior.”

“Not anymore,” Cas said, “I rebelled and died and apparently whatever resurrected me is powerful enough to command Zechariah’s respect.”

Raeth stared at him, but her angel blade disappeared as well. “Michael?”

“Maybe,” Cas said.

“Adonai?” Raethaniel whispered the name reverently.

“More likely,” he answered. “It doesn’t matter. The fact that I’m here, and it was the will of something powerful, is enough. There are two factions in heaven that I am aware of. One that is committed to the Apocalypse and will stop at literally nothing to force these two boys to comply; and one that is committed to stopping it.”

“Which one is greater?” Dean demanded.

“I don’t know yet,” Cas answered. “I’m hoping that Raeth can help me find out.”

“Me?” She said at the same time Sam said, “Raeth?”

“She _is_ an angel,” Cas offered.

“She’s hurt,” Sam protested, “and she keeps doing stuff that prevents her from getting well.” He gave her a narrow, disapproving look.

“Because _you_ keep getting into trouble,” she shot back.

“I’m a Winchester,” Sam replied, as if that explained everything.

Castiel took a few steps forward, started to touch two fingers to Raethaniel’s forehead and paused.

“Are you absolutely certain you don’t want to kill me anymore?” he asked.

She gave him a wry look and said, “At the moment. What do you want me to do?”

“Can you listen? Just listen and see who might be trying to communicate. I know we aren’t the only angels on earth right now. We need to find the ones on our side.”

“I can do that,” she answered.

Cas touched her and she let out a little gasp. Sam looked anxiously at Cas.

“Is that it? Is she well again?”

“Not entirely, but that’s all I can do at the moment.”

Sam’s expression turned annoyed.

“It’s all right, Sam,” Raeth said. “I feel much better; and I don’t want to strangle Castiel anymore.”

“Well there’s that,” Dean said. “Can we get out of here?”

Castiel disappeared without another word.

“I hate when he does that,” Dean grumbled. Then he asked Raeth, “What about you? You want a ride or are you just going to beam out too?”

“I’d like to stay with Sam,” Raeth answered, “until we can figure out how I’m going to keep track of you now.”

Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket. “Then let’s get out of here.”


	36. A Thousand Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the credits of Sympathy for the Devil. The opening dialogue is not mine, it is from the show

“I'm just—I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?” The words were hard, forced. Dean’s internal struggles always had a hard time finding a voice.

“What can I do?” Sam asked, almost desperate.

“Honestly?” Dean asked, breathless with uncertainty. “Nothing.”

Sam looked down, nodding, not surprised. Grief closed his throat, heavier than guilt, as he mourned all the things he had lost.

But he needed to hear this. He’d found no solace in Dean’s softness and optimism. He’d wanted violence, anger. He’d wanted – needed – Dean to blow up at him. In fact, Dean was still being too soft, too kind, even if the words were brutal.

“I just don't...” Dean went on, when Sam stayed silent. “I don't think that we can ever be what we were. You know?”

Sam nodded again. There were no tears in spite of the dryness clogging his throat. Guilt this heavy transcended any physical reaction.

Then Dean dropped the final blow, just before turning and walking towards the Impala.

“I just don't think I can trust you.”

Sam had known that of course. But hearing it out loud was like a drop of ice falling into his soul and settling there. It was so cold he shivered.

The car door slammed shut and Sam stood with his hands jammed in his pockets, trembling.

Before he could decide what to do, Raeth appeared beside him. He jumped, heart stuttering and then beating like a trip hammer against the band that seemed to be tightened around his chest.

“Raeth,” he exhaled. He willed his body back to calmness, taking deep, deliberate, measured breaths

She put a steadying hand on him. “It’s all right,” she said.

“You’re not supposed to fly,” he reminded her, his consciousness leaping at something – anything – else to concentrate on; anything but the loss of Dean.

“I didn’t. I haven’t left you. I was standing over there. I heard everything he said.”

“He’s right,” Sam acknowledged with a short, miserable burst of choked, hysterical laughter.

“He still loves you?” Raeth asked.

“Yes,” Sam answered, nodding, “If he didn’t he’d have already driven away.”

It was true. Dean had never, in their entire history, tried to control Sam by withdrawing love; or even threatening to do that. Dean’s love was unconditional. He couldn’t trust Sam but he wouldn’t leave him broken and bleeding in a hospital parking lot.

Raeth’s eyebrows knitted together though, as she thought through that.

“He was cruel,” she said, “he hurt you.”

“He was _right_ ,” Sam growled, fiercely. “He didn’t say anything I haven’t said to myself.”

“So he’s just waiting for you to crawl back to the car like a whipped dog?”

She saw the clench of his teeth, the ripple of the muscles in his jaw, the flare of his nostrils that meant a flare of anger under the ice-cold guilt.

“No,” he said. “He’s telling me that he hasn’t deserted me.”

Sam turned to look at Raeth and realized from the look on her face that she had pricked his anger – attacked his brother - on purpose. She still had her hand on his arm and she squeezed it now.

“Sam you’re both hurting. You’re both on your knees at the moment, in pain; you because you blame yourself for everything that happened and Dean because he blames himself for not being able to stop you. But you’re brothers, you’re Winchesters and you’re going to do what you’ve always done.”

Sam glanced away, shook his head. He didn’t want her sympathy or her compassion. He didn’t want words of comfort. So he said, in a voice dripping with skepticism, “And what’s that?”

But what she said next pulled him out of the shadow, gave him a brief light in the ugly fog that had settled over him. Her voice was infinite with gentleness and patience and Sam heard heaven’s mercy in it. She offered him neither platitude nor attempted wisdom. Raeth gave him simple truth.

“Whichever one of you gets up first will help the other.”

He was still gazing, awe-struck, into her eyes when she vanished. He knew an instant of frustration because he still didn’t want her to fly. But he also knew that he and Dean needed to be alone to work this out and he was grateful to her for the privacy.

The Impala was still sitting silent, inky-black, darker than the night around it. Moonlight gleamed from the chrome. Propelled by the strength of a thousand regrets and the glimmer of hope Raethaniel had given him, Sam walked towards it.


	37. Ox, Eagle, Lion, Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An original adventure just prior to Good God, y’all.

Sam was watching Raeth with the little furrow between his brows that meant he was worried about something. In this case he was worried that she really didn’t understand how to use the cell phone he had just gotten for her. Raeth in turn was wearing a expression that was both puzzled (by the curious instrument) and concerned (that she was somehow failing Sam).

He was currently scrolling through a series of commands with the effortless ease of someone who knew his way around electronics.

“I’m going to ask you to say your name. Don’t ask why, just say it. Okay?”

He looked so anxious that Raeth swallowed any questions she might have and obediently spoke her name into the rectangular device, watching Sam’s face to see if she had done it right.

“Great,” he said, smiling, “Now try to call me.”

Raeth carefully followed the instructions he’d given her: Contact, Sam, and then the little odd shaped image he said was a phone (even though it didn’t look anything like the device in her hand.)

Sam made her call him twice and then call Dean but when he wanted her to call Dean again she balked.

“I am centuries old, Sam. I think I’ve grasped the concept of how to use this!”

“Okay!” He said, quickly, lifting his hands in surrender. “I’ll put in the number of the phone we gave Cas and then we’ll be done.”

“I can still hear my brother and I can still contact him if I want,” she pointed out.

“Without any risk of _any_ other angel hearing you?” Sam asked.

She clenched her teeth. Her eyes narrowed and he saw the sparks of dragon-fire along with the amber and brown. “Probably.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Sam said, “those odds aren’t good enough for me. You want to talk to Cas about Dean, or me, or where we are, you _call_ him on this.”

“Very well,” Raeth answered, bowing her head slightly. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

Sam tensed because he had a feeling he’d somehow angered her. She wasn’t his slave after all, only his Guardian.

“I’m sorry,” he said again and this time it sounded contrite. “I’m just trying to give us a safe way to communicate.”

Raeth was painfully aware of Sam at the moment. He was dressed in dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt, lithe and broad, the muscles and veins in his arms testifying to his strength. His skin seemed to glow with an inner flame, as if he was the angel.

Trying to change the subject, Sam asked, “How are you feeling?”

In answer she allowed the shadow of her wings to appear on the motel room walls. They looked nearly whole again, uplifted and wide.

“Good,” Sam said.

“So it’s safe to leave you for a little bit?” Raeth asked.

“I think so. Dean and I aren’t going to leave Bobby, not for a while, and he hasn’t been cleared to leave the hospital. Where are you going?”

“I need to see one of my brothers - Briathos.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Yes. He fled heaven as I was being imprisoned. He hunts demons.”

“Why do you need to see him?”

“I think he may know where the tetramorph is.”

“You mean, it’s on earth?”

“I believe it is. We’ve hunted for it before. Briathos in particular was reasonably obsessed with it.”

Sam held her eyes with his own direct gaze for a moment. His eyes were once again remarkable – anxiety and curiosity simmered over unknown depths of intelligence and experience. Light and shadow caressed his face, defining a stunning purity of masculine bone structure. She had decided a long time ago that Sam was not a handsome man – but that was only because he was beautiful, possessed of the concentrated, passionate beauty of a panther or a tiger.

Raeth was committed to protecting him. He could see that she was reluctant to leave him. But he had won her over to his cause – the cause of stopping as much of the horror of the Apocalypse as possible. The rise of the tetramorph, the beast made of four separate animals – the ox, the lion, the eagle, and the man – was one of the first signs. Raeth had assured him that it did exist, but that no one had seen it in millennia.

“All right. Take the phone. Keep it with you. Call if you need me,” Sam said.

There was sincerity in his voice, a profound and intense concern for her safety flowed beneath the softly spoken syllables.

“I will and you do the same.”

She stood up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Before he could react to that, she vanished.

(0)

Several long hours later,Sam was sleeping in the uncomfortable chair in Bobby’s hospital room. He’d always had an uncanny ability to curl up in whatever was available and steal sleep where he could. There never seemed to be anything that was designed to actually hold his long, tall frame. So it had been an important skill to learn.

His phone rang with the tone he had set for Raeth, waking him instantly. He sat up, stretched automatically and answered it, softly.

“Raeth?”

“ _Sam_?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“ _Nothing. Can we meet at the motel_?”

“Sure. Why?”

There was a slight hesitation then she said, “ _I’ve found the tetramorph_.”

He sat up straighter. “Can you destroy it?”

“ _Yes, eventually, but I can’t get to it_ ,” she answered.

“Why not?”

“ _Can we have this talk in person_?” She sounded annoyed.

“Uh, yeah sure. I’m at the hospital. Why don’t you go to that oak tree in the park across the street? I’ll meet you there.”

“ _Yes_ ,” she answered and then the call abruptly ended.

Sam sighed and got up. He looked at Bobby to make sure he hadn’t been disturbed. Then he walked softly out of the room.


	38. Not Without My Brother

“All right, so where is it?” Sam asked the moment he and Raethaniel appeared back in the motel room.

She looked much better. The burns were nearly gone completely. Her hair was neatly brushed into a heavy ponytail that moved as if it had a life of its own. Sam had gotten her an off-white, fisherman’s knit sweater that suited her coloring and made her eyes even darker and more mysterious.

He saw her sweep him with the same kind of assessing look, and finding him in equally good health, she answered his question.

“It’s in China,” she said.

Sam was so startled he couldn’t speak for a moment and when he could finally speak it was almost inarticulate.

“It’s.. it’s in … in _China_?”

“Yes.”

“Like, the country, China, across the Pacific.”

“Yes. Did you think this was only happening in North America? The tetramorph is alive and it’s waking up.”

Sam managed to get his brain and his feet moving. “All right,” he said, going to his laptop and flipping it open. “Where in China?”

Now Raeth hesitated. She looked down. Her weight shifted on the balls of her feet as if she was considering running, or perhaps launching into flight.

“It is chained, under one of the four sacred mountains of China, Gongga Shan.” When she saw that Sam was typing she added, “It is also known as _Mi'nyâg Gong'ga Riwo_ , the King of Mountains.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow at her. “Do angels have a thing for chaining things up under mountains?”

She winced but held her ground. “According to Briathos, the tetramorph was forced under Gongga Shan by demons, who have held it there waiting for Lucifer’s return. Briathos slew the demons he found guarding it, but even they couldn’t be compelled to free it again.”

Sam called it up on the screen, read for a moment and then sat back. The snow white peak in front of him was imposing even in pictures.

“Raeth,” he began in the most skeptical of tones.

“I can just take you to it. I’m well enough for that now. It’s the monsoon season so the mountain is closed to climbing expeditions. If you can set it free, I can destroy it. Briathos is willing to help as well. He’s been watching it for centuries, trying to find someone brave to go in and set it loose; and killing any demons who have tried to come for it.”

“Or someone stupid enough?” Sam asked.

“It’s going to get loose one way or the other, Sam. This way Briathos and I can be waiting for it. Briathos is a Griffin in his trueform. Together we should be able to destroy it.”

“Why can’t you get to it?”

“The demons warded it against angels,” she explained, “or Briathos would have gone in after it centuries ago.”

“Smart,” Sam muttered under his breath, though he hated to give demons any credit for anything. “What do you want me do?”

“There are tunnels that lead down into the mountain. We need you to take an angel blade and release it from its chains. Once it breaks free of the mountain, Briathos and I will destroy it.”

“You make this all sound so easy,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“When has anything in your life been easy?” She countered. There was no defiant set to her current stance, no demand being made. She was looking up at him through her gilded lashes, her wild-fire gaze frank and honest. “Do you think I want to ask you to do this? I’m supposed to protect you; not send you to free a demon-mad beast bent on the destruction of mankind.”

Sam stared back at the brave, beautiful angel who was his Guardian. He understood that it was painful for her to ask. He also knew that Raeth understood how much personal responsibility Sam was taking for the events currently taking place. He closed the laptop and stood up.

“All right,” he said, “But there’s one condition.”

“What?” She asked, head tilted suspiciously and fought the unconscious squeal of her nerves, rejecting the idea of Sam heading into danger (and at her urging.) For a moment, from the look on Sam’s face, Raethaniel had the impression that he didn’t care if he lived or died. There was a grim shadow lurking in his eyes.

Sam braced his feet and stood up a little straighter. Without hesitation he answered, “I’m not doing this without my brother.”

Unsurprised, Raeth nodded and reached up to stroke her finger down his cheek. Her touch was serene and cool, meant to calm. But Sam’s skin was fevered under her touch. Fire sparked between them for a moment and she lowered her hand quickly.

She took her cell phone out of the pocket of her jeans. “Then let’s go find him.”

(0)

They found Dean at a bar, suspiciously drunk but he sobered up quickly when he saw them. He was even more sober by the time they finished telling him about the tetramorph, standing outside in the parking lot, leaning on the Impala.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t make a sound. He just leaned against the Impala with his feet crossed at the ankles and listened to them talk. He listened to Sam reciting verses from Revelation and Raethaniel giving an in depth history of the beast and they tag-teamed an explanation of what had to be done and why.

When they finished, Dean just stared out at the distance and watched the first rays of sunrise glint on the horizon. They didn’t bother him again for several long moments. But then he straightened up and reached for his keys, because he wasn’t leaving his beloved car in bar parking lot while he visited China.

“Okay,” he said, “When do we start?”

(0)

 

 

 


	39. Gongga Shan

They vanished out of the motel and appeared in the middle of a pitched battle. Raethaniel, exhausted from transporting all three of them, dropped to one knee just as a Chinese man – eyes completely black – lunged for her. Reacting on instinct and a lifetime of unconventional training, Sam jumped between them and ended the demon’s existence on the sharp edge of his demon knife.

He grasped Raeth’s hand and hauled her to her feet as she drew her angel blade. She whirled around, back to back with him, weapons ready.

There was a Mongol wearing ancient armor– instantly recognizable as an angel vessel because he was glowing blue and there was an angel blade in his hand. He was moving with speed and efficiency through a group of black-eyed demons. A slice to his left took one in the throat. A graceful pivot and another was dispatched with twist of his wrist, taking the demon through the heart. He died screaming.

Dean had thrown himself into the fight like an angry bull. He launched at one of the demons and ducked just as the man’s demon knife raked the air where Dean had just been standing. Dean stayed down, rotating on his left hand, sweeping his legs through his opponent’s and toppling him with an easy jerk. Dean sprang up but the demon never hit the ground. He turned the fall into a somersault and the second he touched down he jumped back at Dean.

Dean backed away, drawing the demon in. There was a feral look on his face now and epic concentration. Their blades met and Dean slid forward until he was standing shoulder to shoulder with his enemy. He grinned as he slammed an elbow into the demon’s face, snapping his head back. When his blade came free of the demon’s he brought it up and stabbed it into his throat. He was pulling it free and looking for his next victim before the demon hit the ground.

At the same time, Sam was dealing with a demon-possessed woman. She came at him like a cold fury. He anticipated her attack and blocked it low and to the right, anticipating the twist that allowed her to sweep a deadly blade across where he had been standing. He was forced out his back-to-back defense with Raethaniel, ducking down to slash at the demon’s legs but she leapt over his knife.

She came at him again screaming. He danced away from a lethal cut across his middle. A slash downward tore a rent in his jeans but missed the skin. He spun on his left foot and kicked out with his right, caught her in the chest and sent her sailing backward and into the dirt.

She clawed a handful of earth and gravel and threw it into Sam’s face. He closed his eyes and turned his head but two stones hit his forehead, opening a cut above his right eye.

All that did was make him mad.

He lunged at her as she was scrambling up off the ground. She slashed at him, hard and fast, but Sam spun the knife with a practiced turn of his wrist and aimed a blow that took off her right hand just before he buried the knife in her gut.

Sam stood up, still in a defensive posture just as Sam finished off his opponent. Raethaniel was a blur between two opponents, moving with a fluidity that Sam had not seen before. A wave of her hand sent one – a woman - staggering back, blood gushing from her nose, as if she had run straight into a wall. Spinning Raeth delivered a slash that ripped the other demon from his shoulder to his abdomen, spilling blood and guts onto the ground as he fell.

The Mongol angel and Dean had stepped forward at the same time to deal with the staggering, dazed demon. The Mongol crouched as she sprang towards them. His angel blade caught her in the middle while Dean’s demon knife went through her chin into her skull. She dropped without even crying out.

Panting, the victors, stood staring at each other for a moment, surrounded by blood and carnage.

The scent of the blood rose up on the breeze and filled Sam’s lungs with a sweet, sharp ache. He had just killed – again – and yes they had been possessed but the humans they had been were just as dead as the demons who had taken them. He felt a sudden and intense longing for it to be as it had once been, when he’d had real power. Sam knew a sudden and terrible fear because he wanted nothing more than to drink, to swallow, to let that power fill him once again and he knew as well that he would _always_ feel that way. It had nothing to do with the demon blood and everything to do with his own deep-seated need to _help_.

“ _Sam!”_

He snapped back to reality when Dean took him by the shoulders and shook him, _hard._ He gasped as if he had been underwater, trying to draw clean air into his lungs.

“I’m okay,” he said, reaching out for Dean and hanging onto him for a moment.

Sam looked at Raethaniel. She looked pale and slightly disheveled but unharmed. Then he looked back at Dean and gave him a smile that he hoped looked reassuring. Dean stared back with horror and concern.

“You sure?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said, shaking him off.

Dean took Sam’s knife from him, cautiously, prying it out his clenched fist. Sam moved away, deliberately upwind from the blood-soaked battleground, while Dean knelt and cleaned the knife on the back of one the dead demon’s shirt.

Raeth went to Sam and touched his forehead. The cut over his eye healed instantly. Even the tear in his jeans was fixed. But, better than that, the craving that was making his head ache and his pulse throb went away.

“Better?” She asked.

“Yes,” he said, gratefully.

The Mongol angel walked up to them. He was shorter – even shorter than Raeth – stocky, heavily muscled. His skin was tanned and looked at tough as his leather armor. Dark eyes assessed Sam, looking him up and down thoughtfully. Dean strolled over and casually handed Sam back the meticulously cleaned knife.

“Briathos,” Raeth said, “These are the men I told you about. Sam, Dean, this is my brother and fellow demon hunter, Briathos.”

The Mongol grunted. “The famous Winchester brothers. You are both taller than I was led to believe.”

“It’s the clean living and eating our Wheaties as kids,” Dean said, and then, typically, he cut to the bottom line, “You want to tell us what’s going on here?”

“I’ve been guarding the entrance to this cavern for centuries,” Briathos began, “but in the last few weeks the attacks by demons has increased. We must destroy the beast inside before it can escape and begins its destructive rampage over the earth.”

“And we’re going to do that by letting it escape?” Dean said, skeptically.

“If we don’t the demons will and they won’t try to stop it. Briathos and I will be waiting for it to come out and we’ll destroy it,” Raeth said.

Sam and Dean turned then to finally face the towering mass of Gongga Shan rising behind them. It was covered in snow, the top shrouded in heavy clouds under the gray and threatening sky. But they were less interested in the mountain itself than they were in the gaping hole in the side of it.

It looked like the open mouth of a whale.

“Why can’t you go in?” Dean asked.

“You can’t see them but there are wards against angels carved into the rock around the entrance,” Briathos said, “To step through would be instant death for any angel.”

“And this… this _thing_ is inside there?” Dean asked, head cocked and expression stern.

“Yes,” Raeth said, “The tunnel is high, the path is obvious.” From somewhere inside her sleeves, two more angel blades appeared. She hand one each to Sam and Dean. “These will cut through the chains holding the beast,” she told them, “They will also light your way. There is water that is safe to drink in pools beside the path.”

Sam gripped the angel blade for a moment. It was warm and seemed to adapt to the shape and size of his hand. Glancing at Dean, he saw that his brother had experienced the same thing.

“So what are we waiting for?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. The entrance of the cave was far from inviting and there was an evil beast waiting inside for them, but for Sam it seemed preferable to staying out here surrounded by fresh demon blood.

Dean started for the cave and Sam fell beside him. In lock step they vanished into the darkness on the other side.

(0)

 


	40. Heart of the Mountain

“Can you hear it, Raethaniel?” Briathos asked. His voice was hushed and almost introspective, thoughtful and awed. “The beast?”

It was difficult for Raeth to concentrate on anything at the moment. The close proximity of the angel wards was disconcerting enough. She didn’t know how Briathos had stayed here for all this time. She was also on the verge of collapsing again, exhausted from carrying Sam and Dean to China and then being called upon to fight demons.

She was also trying to deal with the utter…. _blankness_ that had now existed wherever Sam stood. Once she had lost visual contact with him, she had lost everything.

But she _could_ hear the beast, though hear was not quiteword. She was aware of its presence, the way she would be aware of a fall of boulders tumbling down the mountain faraway.

“It’s gone mad,” Briathos went on. His voice was chillingly matter-of-fact. “After centuries chained up down there, it’s completely insane.”

Raeth remembered her own time spent in chains, buried in darkness under what felt like tons of rock. She shivered, knowing that she would not have survived with her sanity intact if that torture had gone on forever.

But worse was the understanding that she had just sent Sam and Dean through a portal beyond which she dare not go, to free a creature of unspeakable power and evil that was now, also, insane beyond saving.

(0)

Trudging through the cave, over a floor littered with stones and debris, Dean had let Sam take the lead. He had started grumbling the moment they started heading on a downward incline.

“So how does it work, Sammy? Every time there’s a job too dangerous or too crazy someone says, well hey, get the Winchesters, they’ll do it.”

Sam snorted. “Seems like that,” he said. “But this is the beast of the Revelation and we both had something to do with starting to set it free. So we should be the ones who finish the job.”

“Hey, I didn’t break the last seal,” Dean said.

Sam stopped walking so suddenly Dean almost ran straight into him. He held up his glowing angel blade, high, so that it almost blinded Dean.

“No, you broke the first one,” Sam answered, dangerously. The hardness of his expression was made more heartbreaking by the uncertainty in his eyes.

“I didn’t know!” Dean protested.

Sam waited a moment and then replied in a low, pained voice, “Neither did I.”

Even in the odd blue glow of the angel blades Dean could see the look on Sam’s face was heartsick, hurt and weary. Even angry with Sam, that look was hard on Dean. When all was said and done this was his brother. They were two thorns on the same rose and always would be; and it hurt the worst when they managed to prick each other.

“Okay,” he admitted, shortly, “All true. Can we just do this?’

“Yes,” Sam said. He turned abruptly and kept going.

Dean sighed and walked after him.

The passageway was cavernous but Dean supposed it had to be, since at one time demons had driven a beast of Biblical proportions through here.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean said, suddenly, “remember when we were kid and Dad took us to that haunting in New Mexico and after we figured it out he decided to take us to Carlsbad Caverns?”

“Yes,” Sam answered, “That was the Seven Rivers Cemetery case, all those bodies that were moved.”

“I was talking about the caverns.”

“Why?”

“This kind of reminds me of that, only without the heat and the lights.”

Sam looked around at the walls and up at the ceiling over their heads and had to admit that Dean had a point. The light from the angel blades was strange. It glowed like blue fire but didn’t blind. It seemed to come from all around them and not just from the blades themselves. Sam was grateful for it, because one thing he remembered quite clearly from the Carlsbad tour was the moment when they had been given the chance to experience ‘cave darkness’. Sam had been young and when the lights had gone out he’d be sure for one panicked second that he’d gone blind. He’d remembered where he was and that Dean was standing right next to him. He’d been reaching for Dean’s hand when the lights had come back on.

“We have light,” Sam remarked.

“Yeah, but it would be nice to have that handy tape recorded guide thing telling us how to get through and what we were seeing,” Dean added.

He too was looking around and while Sam was no doubt appreciating the cold and stark beauty of the cave, Dean was a little concerned about the sameness.

“Raeth told me to keep going down and to stay in the large chambers because the creature doesn’t fit down the smaller passages.”

“Oh great,” Dean sighed, rolling his eyes, looking up at the cavernous space again.

“Besides,” Sam said, “Can’t you feel it?”

The tone of Sam’s voice brought the hair up on the back of Dean’s neck. Sam got like this on hunts sometimes – like he was aware of something that Dean wasn’t. Dean had learned to trust Sam’s instincts and – while trust was currently still an issue – this time he had a feeling that he should just go with Sam’s feelings.

Dean listened more closely, looked around more sharply and inhaled. He was instantly sorry he’d inhaled. There was a foul stench in the air now that he took time to notice it. Whatever this thing was, it stank of festering flesh and old, rotting blood.

But Sam was also right about being able to _feel_ something. A malevolence hung in the air, lurked in the darkness just beyond the glow of the angel blades.

They walked forward, cautious as the floor sloped downward. As they moved deeper and deeper into the cavern they became aware of a slow, heavy breathing. At first Sam thought it was his own heartbeat but then he realized it was coming from outside of himself.

“It’s close, “he whispered to Dean.

“I know,” Dean whispered back.

They walked under an arch and into a chamber even larger than the ones that had come before. It was an inverted bowl with a path around the top edge. Two pillars rose out of path with chains – larger than anything they had ever seen – trailing away into the over the edge and down into the darkness beyond. Shining the angel blade over the edge they saw nothing but a huge dark boulder lying at the bottom of the bowl.

The brothers shared a wary, concerned look, every sense on the alert. The angel blades were no longer being held as torches. Their grip shifted to holding them as the lethal weapons they were. The stench and the malevolent presence were heavy here in the heart of the mountain.

Then, with a rattle of those heavy, cruel chains, the dark boulder _moved_. A single great eye opened, glowing red and swirling with madness in the cold, blue light. A gigantic head – in profile, bull shaped, horned and breath snorting from huge nostrils – lifted up out of the darkness.

Long, white teeth glinted as the creature’s mouth opened.

Something like laughter echoed in their heads and _words_ , real words, accompanied it.

“ _Humans, you are **mine……”**_

 

 

 

 


	41. Anima Viva

Instinctively Sam and Dean moved back into the shadows against the wall, as far from the edge of the bowl as they could get. A sickening stench filled the air as the creature blew a blast of hot breath at them.

Dean had a fistful of Sam’s jacket, holding him as if he thought his brother would charge off to do battle with it.

“Brother,” he said, eyes wide, adrenaline pumping, “We are in way over our heads.”

Before Sam could form an answer the beast threw itself against the chains, lunging for them. Teeth snapped shut before it could get to the Winchesters.

“It can’t get up here,” Sam exhaled, not as if he was discovering but as if he had always known it.

Dean got the feeling he should have talked to Sam more about this. The thing had crouched back down, growling.

“But we’re supposed to set it free. What keeps it from eating us after that?” Dean demanded.

Before Sam could say another word the heavy, syrupy voice slid through their minds again. It was thick with blood and violence, desperation beyond understanding and a deep, menacing madness. The red eyes glowed in the shadows.

“ _Nothing…. I will tear you in two. I will feast on your bleeding flesh.”_

“Nice,” Dean growled back. “I’ll look forward to that. Sam! What do we do here, brother?”

Sam aimed the light of his angel blade the ceiling of the bowl and Dean could see that it was really on a few feet taller than they were, sloping sharply inward until it barely topped Sam’s head.

“It can’t,” Sam insisted, leaning over to whisper sharply in Dean’s ear. “There isn’t room. When we break the final one, all the chains will finally fall away and it will be able to fight its way free. There will be an alcove for us to hide in. It will run to freedom and then we make our way out.”

The beast threw its bull head back and roared, fighting against its chains. The sound slammed into Sam and Dean, driving them both to their knees with their hands over their ears. It echoed off the stone walls.

“ _Freedom,”_ the beast hissed. Its voice beat at their minds. “You offer me _freedom_ and the taste of your flesh?”

The sound in their heads became a hysterical giggling that carried the seeds of insanity with it.

Sam and Dean struggled to their feet. While the beast ranted and raged and promised slow painful death and relived it time outside, once in fresh air, when it had hunted and lived in freedom, Sam and Dean crept carefully up to the first pillar. The chain poured over the edge of the bowl and they could see now that it bound the creature’s right foreleg – the shape of an eagle’s foreleg and foot, ending in sharp talons that had scoured the rocks beneath it.

“Wait here,” Sam instructed and before Dean could say another word Sam was crouched and running to the second pillar in line. It held the beast’s left hind leg – the shape of a lions.

They could see enough of the creature now to distinguish the bull head mounted minotaur-like on the torso of a man. The torso ended in the chest and front legs of an eagle. The rest was as a lion, strong back and muscular hind legs, a lion’s tail. But eagle wings rose front its back, pinned by chains.

Sam swallowed against the dry fear in his throat. He gave his brother a short, communicative look and raised his angel blade over the ring around the pillar. Dean did the same over his. With a nod and silent count of three, the brothers gripped the angel blades hard in sweat-slicked hands and drove them into the metal.

A golden light exploded hurling them back. Their quick reflexes kept them from striking their heads on the stone wall behind them. They were blinded for a moment and the beast roared, adding to their pain.

When it finally ceased screaming and hurling itself against its chains Sam was shouting for Dean and Dean was shouting for Sam. They fell silent only when each was assured of the other’s continued existence.

Sam crouched and ran back to him, grasping a handful of Dean’s jacket.

“You okay?” Sam whispered.

“What the _hell,_ Sam,” Dean whispered back.

Using the grip he had on his brother’s coat, Sam hauled him to his feet.

“Come on,” he urged.

They raced along the pathway edging the bowl until they came to the next pillar. Dean stopped and watched Sam until he was almost to the opposite side from where they had entered this hell hole. Braced this time for the explosion of light, they repeated the actions that had broken the first two chains. A downward strike of the angel blade and they were once again engulfed in light and sound. The links shattered even though the chains still held, one over the beast’s back and the other tethering its right hind leg.

Sam was still trying to blink away his temporary blindness when Dean barreled into him and dragged him along to their next objective. Sam was cursing in his head but too focused on what they were doing to give it voice. They stumbled into place, tripping and falling over debris and gravel, trying not to think about what would happen if they fell over the edge into the lair of the beast.

This time they kept their eyes closed and when the explosion came they fell back the way they had been taught in childhood – muscles loose, limbs relaxed, rolling and getting their feet under them. They were running again before the beast stopped wailing.

There was only one pillar left - the one with the chain that held the beast’s neck. It was set back and there was a small depression in the rick behind it. The opening in the wall where they had originally entered the room was just to their left. The chains were glowing, waiting for the final one to be broken.

Sam and Dean risked a glance down into the bowl and instantly wished they had not. It was crouched like a predator waiting for its prey to come out of a hole. Glittering, blood red eyes were narrowed and watching their every move. A low rumbling growl echoed from its throat.

Since they had no idea what would happen when the chains were all broken, Sam knelt to stab at the link and Dean stood over him, angel blade ready but looking pathetically small compared to the creature snarling up at them from the pit. Dean looked down and nodded to Sam, who raised the blade and brought it down with a vengeance.

Light blazed. There was a sound of shrieking metal and the mountain shook in fury. The beast howled like the tormented souls in Hell, testing Dean’s resolve. The chains began to twist, pulsing wildly as the beast began to break free.

Sam once again got hold of Dean’s jacket and pulled him down, dragging him into the shelter of stone behind the pillar. One by one they heard the chains snapping and in their minds they heard the beast laughing in hysterical delight.

“ _Kill you kill you all die die as your kind should all die,”_ it repeated in sadistic anticipation.

Sam and Dean huddled in the small alcove, angel blades under their jackets to hide the light.

At that moment a whiff of air, fresh and clean, made its way through the stench and staleness. It wisped around Sam and Dean, gently stirred Sam’s hair.

The beast stopped moving. It stopped speaking. Its great bull head swung back and forth, nostrils flared.

 _“Air,”_ it crooned, “ _Blessed air, outside, outside…..”_

It began to scramble up out of the bowl but then it paused again as if remembering the brothers. Its head swung one more in their direction. It was feet from them now, mad red eyes blazing. Sam and Dean turned, still crouched, angel blades still concealed but ready. The blades were humming in their hands, alive with energy.

Then a voice came on the fresh breeze. It was a voice like thunder, rolling and crashing against the rock.

“ _Anima viva et venit contra nos.”_

“Raeth,” Sam breathed because he _knew_ that’s who it was.

The chant continued, hypnotic, compelling. The Tetramorph turned and followed the sound, claws sliding on rock as it left the prison it had inhabited for centuries.

“ _There there there,”_ it whimpered now like a lost dog as it dragged itself forward. Chains rattled as they fell away. “ _Outside outside I am coming I am coming….”_

Sam and Dean crouched in the shadows, waiting as the sound died away and the summoning chant ended. They stayed there a long time, panting, trembling. Then Sam put his hand under Dean’s arm and hauled him to his feet. They clung together for a moment, checking the other’s condition silently.

“We have to go,” Sam said, satisfied that Dean was in one piece.

“Aren’t the angels going to deal with that thing in their trueforms?” Dean asked.

“I imagine they have to,” Sam answered. “That was Raeth’s voice but then again… it wasn’t. They’ve probably already changed.”

“So maybe we should just stay in here,” Dean said.

“You really want to stay in here?” Sam asked, skeptically.

Dean glanced around at the former prison. The chains were useless but the stench remained.

“Naw,” he agreed. “Let’s get out of here.”

(0)

 


	42. Griffon and Dragon

At the mouth of the cave Briathos and Raethaniel could hear the monster coming. Malevolence and cold fury came before it. Raethaniel was chanting the summoning call but stopped when it became clear that the beast was answering.

She glanced at Briathos and quoted, “ _And I beheld another beast coming up out of the earth; and he had two horns, and he spoke as a dragon_.”

Briathos nodded and changed into a dark mist before assuming his true form. Raethaniel followed; so that when the beast finally broke out into the sunlight he was confronted by a Griffon and a Dragon.

Screaming a challenge Raethaniel flung herself at it. They met in a clash of claws and teeth. She knocked the monster over out of sheer surprise. It went against her nature to risk her fragile and still-healing wings but she dug her claws into the earth and beat at the beast’s head with rapid stunning blows.

Behind her Briathos threw back his eagle head, shrieked and dove into the battle.

(0)

Inside the mountain Sam and Dean stopped when the blue-white light pouring into the opening was too bright for them to keep their eyes open. The sound pierced their ears and drove them to their knees, hands clamped on either side of their ears.

 _Damn it_ , Dean snarled to himself. He wanted _out._ He wanted to see the sky again and he wanted to see it _right now._ He’d had enough of this accursed mountain and the deadly tunnels within it.

But the light and sound were enough to warn him that the angels had assumed their trueforms and taking another step towards the opening would either kill the brothers or leave them permanently blind. Trained and conditioned for all of his young life to protect Sam, it had now become instinct for him. He moved closer to Sam, got an arm around his shoulders and pulled him up, stumbling back down the tunnel until the light and the sound were at least bearable.

Straightening up the brothers took a second to recover and then stared at each other helplessly. There was nothing they could do now but wait.

(0)

Before Briathos could join the fight the beast had used a front talon in an attempt to disembowel Raeth. She was forced to twist out of the way and lost her hold on it. Triumphant it spread its eagle wings and launched into the air.

Briathos and Raeth followed. Raeth aimed a lethal snap at the bull’s throat but missed – barely – when it twisted and dove. The beast was awkward in the air, without the grace and natural ability of the angels. But it was driven by madness; and insanity loaned it reckless strength.

Raeth reached into the deep reserves of her grace and attacked. Fire dripped from her wings and burned in her eyes. Beside her Briathos was golden – golden feathers, talons, eyes, and beak. He burned like a small sun.

Blazing like a comet Raeth streaked after the beast until she was just above it. Fiery breath ignited the air just above the monster’s head and it turned to come after her. She dodged it, leading towards Briathos. The beast followed her with a bellowing roar, talons outstretched, eyes blazing scarlet with blood lust.

She dove under Briathos as he streaked passed, his fiery tail just missing her. With matching shrieks of rage the angel and the beast clashed together. The stench of burning flesh filled the air as Briathos scorched the human torso. His talons rose to gouge the sides of the lion body. The wounds dripped blood the color of sunset into the white snow beneath. The angel-Griffin used its beak to tear at the feathers of the beast’s wings and felt it falter. Briathos screamed triumph but it was short-lived. The beast used its own talons to slash at Briathos, opening a line that streamed blue down his lion hind leg.

Briathos screamed and let go of the beast. It spun and flew away

Raeth streamed past, wings tucked as she plummeted towards them. She back-winged and wrapped her front claws around Briathos wound, closing and sealing it. Then she dove at the beast like a hawk chasing a rabbit. When she caught the beast she wrapped it in all four legs and hung on, still plunging towards the earth, pulling it with her.

Above a rocky out-cropping she dropped the beast, watching it fall. It tried to right itself but it was not really a creature of the sky, too unnatural to know what to do by instinct. As it crashed into the rocks Raeth loosed a torrent of gold and scarlet flame and the beast burst into a holocaust of flames. It screamed one final sound of fury and madness and then it was gone as the rocks became a funeral pyre.

Exhausted, Raeth descended, turned to vapor and reappeared in her vessel. Briathos landed beside her and changed back into this Mongol form.

“Thank you, my sister,” he said.

“You are free as well,” she said, “You can go now. I’ll wait for Sam and Dean.”

“With respect, sister,” he answered, “You hardly look strong enough to fly yourself off this mountain, much less carry two others with you. I will remain and help you. I understand that Sam is your responsibility. Let me take Dean.”

Something about the way he said, and his focus on Dean in particular, the way he uttered Dean’s name as if it was sacred raised the hair on her neck. Cautiously, because she was in no condition for another fight she said,

“Thank you, brother, but I will look after the Winchesters.”

“Let me take Dean,” Briathos said, taking a step towards her. His eyes flashed briefly in a dazzling shade of blue.

“No,” Raeth responded, taking a step backwards, towards the cave entrance. The angel wards beat at her. “There are too many angels looking for Dean Winchester.”

Briathos smirked. “Yes. When I asked you to bring Sam Winchester I had intended to take him when all this was over. Dean would have come if he’d known I had his brother. But you brought Dean to me, of his own free will. Now all I have to do is take him to Zechariah and help convince him to become Michael’s vessel.”

“What?” Raeth asked, stunned by the betrayal. Her angel blade slipped down into her hand. “No, Briathos. I won’t allow that.”

His angel blade appeared from nowhere. “Do you really think you are strong enough to stop me? Help me instead! Think how grateful Michael will be! I know he sent you to guard Sam Winchester and I thought that was going to be a problem, when I thought I was going to have to use Sam as leverage against Dean. But now Dean is here and all I have to do is take him to Zechariah. Go with me! Help me!”

“Never,” Raeth answered.

At that moment Sam and Dean Winchester emerged from the opening in the mountain, dirty and disheveled and stunned into silence at the two angels facing each other in fighting stance with blades drawn.

Raeth looked over her shoulder and raised her hand. “Dean!” She shouted. “Stay where I put you!”

There was a flash of blue-white light and Dean was gone. Sam stood there, shocked, trying to regroup when, with a howl of fury, Briathos launched himself at Raeth with his angel blade raised……

(0)


	43. Hero

Raeth had almost dropped to one knee after sending Dean away. She was almost at the end of her strength but now she had to protect Sam. As Briathos lunged forward she rolled onto her back and planted both feet in his armored belly. He staggered back just long enough for her to get up on her feet.

Angel blades met and hissed as they slid against each other. Then Raeth shifted her weight and twisted her wrist in a way that should have taken Briathos’ hand off at the wrist.

“I have _helped_ you,” Raeth growled. “I even _saved_ you!”

Briathos didn’t answer. Instead he kicked out and knocked her feet out from under her. Raeth landed hard in the snow. She almost blacked out then she saw Briathos standing over her with his angel blade raised in both hands over his head.

“I _am_ sorry, sister,” he said and began the downward slice that would end her life.

Raeth was about to roll away when suddenly Briathos stiffened. The bloody point of an angel blade appeared in the center of his forehead. Blue light streamed from his blank eyes and poured from his mouth. Something lifted him up, pulled the angel blade free and tossed him bodily to the side, where he landed with a heavy thud. Briathos lay prone, staring up in silent horror as his grace slipped away.

When he finally fell limp the impression of his wings burned a hole in the snow and blackened the earth.

Raeth was left staring up at Sam Winchester. He was standing over her with the bloody angel blade still in his hand. For a long moment Sam didn’t look back at her. He was gazing at the deceased Mongol and the blackened stain of his wings. His face was hard, jaw tight, teeth clenched and eyes dark fire.

“Sam?” She said, gently.

“Where’s Dean?” He demanded, without looking at her.

For a moment Raeth was too lost in the high color of his cheeks and the flame in his eyes. “I sent him to Castiel,” she managed to say finally.

Now Sam did look at her and when he did he found that she was gazing up at him as if he was her hero, adoration and love shining from her like a light.

“Don’t,” he choked, reaching for her hand and pulling her to her feet.

“What?”

“I’ll just let you down,” he said, cryptically.

“You just saved my life,” she answered.

“I just killed an angel,” he shot back, already full of regret.

Raeth didn’t know how to explain it to Sam, that being able to perform an act that was clearly painful just to save the life of another was exactly what made him a hero. His heroism lay not in result of his action (though she was clearly grateful for the result of this present one!). It lay in what he was willing to do in the service of others, without regard for the damage to his own soul. Sam’s greatness lay not in his achievement but in his sacrifices.

“You made a choice to kill one angel to save the life of another; and not just an angel’s, but your brother’s life too.”

“What?”

She was about to explain what had provoked the battle between her and her fallen brother when Castiel appeared, angel blade already drawn and fury in his expression.

It took him a moment to take in the scene and realize that his assistance wasn’t needed.

“What happened?” He demanded without preamble.

“Where’s Dean?” Sam asked in the same instant/

“He’s safe,” Castiel answered in short, gruff syllables. “What happened?”

Unconsciously and because Raeth had exhausted every last bit of her recently returned strength, she slipped an arm around Sam’s waist and hung onto him. He responded by putting her arm around her and letting her lean as much as she needed. In careful words she explained what had transpired between her and Briathos and when she was done both the angel and Sam looked like thunder.

“I thought it was something like that,” Castiel said, grimly. Then to Raeth, “Can you fly?”

“Myself, yes,” she answered, trying to stand up straighter.

“Then I’ll take Sam,” he said, “Just follow me.”

“Where are we going?” Sam asked forcefully.

“I’ll take you to Dean,” Castiel answered and that was all Sam needed to hear.

(0)

Castiel had reacted instantly to Dean’s sudden appearance. Without waiting for an explanation Castiel had transferred them to Sioux Falls, Montana, right in front of one of their many safe houses. It was too much being zapped around. As Castiel had gotten Dean inside, asked if he was all right and, after getting a nod of yes from Dean, Cas had vanished to go find Sam. Dean had staggered to the bathroom and been violently sick.

He was staggering back out of the bathroom, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, when the other three appeared in the front room of the cabin.

They all took a moment to just stand, gazing at one another. Then Raeth promptly started fainting. Sam caught her and carried her to the couch.

“Where’s my car?” Dean demanded.

“Nice to see you, too,” Sam shot back over his shoulder.

“Well obviously, you’re all right and Raeth is still among the living. So is Cas,” Dean ticked through the ones he didn’t have to worry about and ended, “So that leaves my car. Where is Baby?”

“Outside,” Castiel replied. The look on his face shot daggers at Dean, as if the angel would somehow to neglect to bring the car along.

Dean looked skeptical but went to the window and, sure enough, the Impala was out there, glittering in the moonlight.

“Cas,” Sam said, with heartbreak in his voice, “Can you do something?”

He was kneeling beside Raeth, who was still unconscious on the couch. Cas walked over and touched her forehead.

“Now, she just needs to rest. She’ll wake up when she’s ready,” he instructed.

Sam nodded and then picked her up and carried her to one of the bedrooms.

Dean confronted Cas. “You want to tell me what all that was about?”

Briefly, and in clipped tones, Castiel explained what he had been told. When he was finished, Dean stared, then scratched his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“ _Damn it,”_ he muttered and Castiel said nothing because that seemed to sum up the situation quite well.

(0)

 

 


	44. To Help My Brother

**THEN:**

(Soundtrack- When Doves Cry)

John Winchester sat at the old rickety picnic table at the motel playground and tried to concentrate on his journal. It was important to write this stuff down when it was still fresh in his mind. He should probably be trying to watch the boys too. They were climbing all over an equally old but not so rickety metal spider web and, since both of them were fearless – even 3 year-old Sammy – they were both at the top. That was good. They needed to know how to climb and they needed to be fearless and they needed to know how to depend on each other.

But John couldn’t concentrate on anything at the moment. There was a heart carved into the weathered planks of the picnic table. Inside the heart were carved the initials ‘JN + DJ’ and the word ‘forever’. Instead of writing out all the gory details about vetalas and what they were and how to kill them, he was staring at the heart and trying to imagine who those two people might have been, and if they were really together forever; of had one of them been taken in a fiery and inconceivable way.

Somewhere in Lawrence, Kansas there was a tree with a heart that read ‘MC + JW forever’.

John was trying to get his thoughts back on track when Sammy fell while trying to climb down the spider web. He didn’t fall far. He’d been almost to the ground when he’d lost his footing on one of the slippery rungs. But he hit his jaw on the ground, biting his lip and – being only 3 – Sammy hollered about that at the top of his lungs.

John started to get up to go to him and then an unexpected thing happened. Sammy didn’t turn towards his father. He didn’t even look in his direction. Sammy looked _up_ to where Dean was scrambling down, saying, “S’okay, Sammy. I’m coming. I’m coming. You’re okay!”

Sam continued bawling about it, arms lifted up towards his brother in complete faith that Dean would help.

Dean jumped the last few feet, landing easily, and then sprinted to Sam, who was walking towards his brother on unsteady feet, arms still held out. He tipped Sam’s head up, saw that it was bleeding and pulled a tissue out of his back pocket.

“It’s not bad,” he told Sam, “Quit cryin’ and let me look at it.”

“It hurts!” Sam wailed.

“Sure it does. But quit cryin’. Don’t be a baby,” Dean admonished, holding the tissue on the bleeding wound.

“Not a baby,” Sam’s complaint was muffled by the tissue pressed against his lower lip.

After a minute, Dean took the tissue away and looked closely at the wound, pulling Sam’s lip down with his thumb.

“Yeah, you’ll live,” he said, “Let’s go put some ice on it anyway. Okay?”

Sam nodded, face solemn and eyes wide, determined now to look like a big boy for his brother. Dean grinned a little and gave Sam a swift hug.

“Atta boy,” Dean said.

They walked off in the direction of the ice machine, Sam’s firmly holding onto his brother’s hand, without a word to John. They didn’t even look in his direction. It was literally as if John didn’t exist.

He stared after the boys in wonder and a little bit of shock. It was obvious Dean had done exactly the same thing about one hurt or another and Sam had trusted that Dean would do it again. Dean had even been prepared with a tissue. He probably even had Band-Aids in his back pocket.

John knew he needed to spend more time with his sons. It was impossible to believe that Sam was 3 already. He’d be 4 in a few short months. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen Sammy smile and couldn’t. Selfishly John had been okay with Sammy being the solemn one. He had his mother’s smile – and her eyes – and most days that was more than John could take.

He’d take them out to McDonald’s for dinner. There was on in town, with one of those new playgrounds that had a ball pit and everything. He’d get coffee and the boys could have Happy Meals, with new toys. It would be worth the hit on their meager funds.

He was still making plans in his head for their time together when the mobile phone rang. It was a big clunky thing and it had cost him a fortune, but it was quickly becoming a hunting necessity.

It was Bobby. There was a new lead, concerning a suspicious house fire in Topeka. John sighed as he gathered up his paper coffee cup, journal and pens. Ah, well, there would be a McDonald’s in Topeka, or even one along the way, and this time he’d make more of an effort to get Dean to shut up and he’d try talking to Sammy. Maybe Sammy could even ride in the front seat for a while.

He’d make it up to them eventually.

He walked back towards there rundown motel room, hollering for the boys to come pack their things.

(0)

 

**NOW:**

Raeth was gradually getting used to the cell phone. She’d even gotten one for Castiel because, really, it was more convenient than not being able to find Sam and Dean. When Castiel told her what he intended to do – return to heaven to find their father – she hit ‘contacts’ and then ‘Sam’.

“ _Raeth_?”

“I need to talk to you,” she said, without preamble. “Where are you?”

“ _In the car_.”

“Driving?”

“ _Traveling. Dean’s driving_.”

“Then where is the car?”

Sam squinted at the mile marker they were passing. It blurred by since Dean was pushing 85 on the speedometer but he saw enough to read it. “ _We’re on Interstate 70, passing mile marker 18, about 10 miles from Grand Junction. Why_?”

Raeth didn’t answer. Instead she just appeared in the backseat of the Impala.

It was a credit to their reflexes that the guys didn’t react except to jump briefly. Dean swore under his breath but kept the car on the road. The interstate at 1am wasn’t exactly crowded – the Impala and some impressive big rigs were the only ones making use of it at the moment. But Dean managed to stay on his side of the dividing line.

Sam had been slouched down in the seat, knees bent against the dashboard, arms folded across his chest and head back in an attempt to sleep so that he could take his turn at the wheel. But he sat straight up, his hand darting forward, intent on the loaded gun under his seat, when he realized who it was.

“Raeth!” He exhaled, rolling his eyes and trying to get his pulse under control. He shut down the cell phone and shoved it back in his pocket. “Don’t _do_ that!”

“Why?”

“Sneaking up on hunters can be a very bad idea,” Dean said, glaring at her in the rearview mirror. “Nonhabit forming, if you know what I mean.”

“Are you carrying an angel blade?” She asked, blinking with mild curiosity.

Sam and Dean exchanged annoyed, defeated looks.

“You made us give them back,” Dean reminded her.

“Drawing a blade on an angel can be a very bad idea,” Raeth countered.

“The last one didn’t seem to stop my brother,” Dean shot back.

“Dean!” Sam snapped.

Briathos’ death still weighed heavily on Sam; for all that he had not been given a choice. He shouldn’t have been able to kill an angel. Not all humans could wield an angel blade. Raeth had told him that. But the Winchesters had been able to use them and Sam had been able to kill with one.

There was as much apology as pride in the sideways look Dean gave Sam. Sam killed when it was necessary and he was damned good at it. He never took any pleasure in it.

“Your brother could teach stealth to a cat,” Raeth stated it as fact, without a trace of sarcasm.

Dean’s grin was smug and downright cocky. “Taught him everything I know.”

“Can you shut up for a minute?” Sam asked. Then he turned to face Raethaniel as best he could, twisted around on the front seat of the Impala. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

She hesitated and Sam said quickly, “Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Dean,” because Sam had just learned the hard way that it was a very bad idea to keep secrets from his brother.

“No, it’s not that,” Raeth said, “I’m trying to find a way to tell you that will help you understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Castiel has asked me to help him on his quest.”

“To find God?” Dean couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of his voice but Raeth didn’t react to it.

“I am not certain he is wrong,” she said, clearly. “But it may be dangerous for him. Heaven is not a stable place at the moment.”

“Is it safe for you?” Sam wondered. “Aren’t the gates sealed?”

“Being sealed only means nothing can get out,” she explained. “It has all of us disconnected. We should still be able to get in and if we can it will actually help me to heal faster. As for being safe, I seem to be under the protection of Michael, though he wanted me to watch over you, so…..”

“So you’re actually not sure,” Sam finished drily.

“Yes,” she answered, “But I need to try to help Castiel and I want you to understand even though I am not quite sure myself. All I can tell you is that … he’s my brother and I need to help him.”

Sam looked at Dean for a moment. Dean kept his eyes fixed on the highway.

“Yeah,” Sam said, quietly. “Go. This is just a demon thing and other hunters are already there. We’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t sure that anything could ever be ‘just a demon thing’ – not for him, not ever again. But he didn’t want to be the reason Raeth didn’t help Cas.

“Call me if you need me,” she said, “Just think about me. Don’t project your voice and give away your location. Do _not_ pray. Use the phone if you have to.”

“I doubt the phone will connect all the way to heaven,” Sam shook his head, even trying to imagine that seemed ludicrous.

But Raeth just said, “Use the phone,” in a tone that meant business. Sam was about to protest again but then saw the look in her eyes. He swallowed and then nodded.

“Okay,” he agreed.

There was a rush of wind and she was gone.

Sam settled back in the seat and stared out the windshield. A year ago he hadn’t known Raeth had existed. A little longer ago he’d only had a firm belief that angels existed at all. Now he felt strangely vulnerable when he thought that she was far away.

It was ridiculous really. The only person he’d ever needed was sitting right next him. Right or wrong, trust or not, Sam has no doubts whatsoever that Dean would work beside him and watch his back.

“I’m gonna pull off in Grand Junction,” Dean said, as if they hadn’t just had an angel in the back seat. “We need gas and food. It’ll have to be something to go. I don’t want to stop.”

That was Dean’s shorthand for ‘figure out what you can eat healthy from the 24-hour minimart.’

Sam scrunched down even further in the seat. “Yeah, sure,” he said.

(0)

 


	45. Sister Goldenhair Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tags to Free to Be You and Me.

(Soundtrack – Sister Golden Hair Surprise)

_Well, I keep on thinkin' 'bout you, Sister Golden Hair surprise And I just can't live without you; can't you see it in my eyes? I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to find But it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind_

Sam slammed his hand down on the radio and shut it off. He felt physically exhausted and mentally wiped from trying to decide what to do next. He’d almost called Dean a dozen times but he didn’t know how to tell him about what had happened, what he had discovered.

Lucifer still seemed to be in the room with him, pale, malignant, poisoning the air with his lingering presence. Sam had many close encounters with death to give him guidance, moments when eternity was so close that the little moments remaining could become compressed, slowed down so that he saw many lifetimes in the space of nanoseconds – so slow he saw the bullet traveling towards him, the knife coming down in infinite detail. But not even brushes with death had affected him like this.

He’d hope some music would distract him and help him sleep. But the song reminded him too much of Raeth and suddenly he knew exactly what he needed – the advice of angel who was sworn to protect him. The visions of Jess – while not true at all – had also reminded me of what it was like to not be alone, to have someone who believed in him and was willing to hold onto him tight during the long dark nights.

Raeth, he knew, would find a way to make him stop thinking in black and white, stop his teeth from chattering.

Sam sat down heavily and put his hand on the bed. He literally ached suddenly that she wasn’t there. He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, fingers threaded through his hair and pulling until his scalp hurt.

The sound of his cell phone ringing was like a heavenly chorus. He grabbed it off the night stand and answered it.

“Raeth?” Breathless. He sounded terrified even to his own ears.

“ _Sam? What’s wrong? Are you hurt_?”

“No. No. I’m not hurt,” he swallowed and tried to calm down. “But I need you. Can you come? Like right now, can you come?”

“ _Yes. It will take me a little longer than usual_.”

“Why? Are you in danger? Where’s Castiel?”

“ _Castiel is with Dean_.”

“Is Dean all right?”

“ _Don’t you know? Aren’t you with them?”_

“No, I … I needed some time but it isn’t going well. Is Dean all right?”

“ _Yes, he’s fine_. _Castiel wanted his help with something_.”

Sam felt a rush of relief to know that Dean was all right. “Why is it going to take you longer to get here?”

“ _I need to make sure I’m not followed_.”

Sam wasn’t stupid. He’d been taught to be alert, to watch for subtle clues. He knew from the sound of her voice that she was trying not to tell him something.

“Followed by Lucifer?” He asked.

She hesitated. “ _You know_?”

“Yes! _You_ know?” Sam had a moment of anger that brought him to his feet. “How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“ _I just found out but I didn’t trust the source_ ,” Raeth answered. _“I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure. Where are you? I’ll come right now._ ”

“Great Plains Motel, Gerber, Oklahoma, room 15. I’m alone.” He didn’t know why he added that. But Sam shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the fact that he was only wearing a loose pair of sweatpants, looking around to make sure that he’d just spoken the truth.

“ _Wait for me. Don’t leave the room. It won’t take long_.”

The connection between them cut off. Sam sat back down on the bed and waited. He’d been a hunter for all of his adult life, and for some of his childhood. He understood the effects of an adrenaline rush. But what he was feeling this time was different. What if Lucifer followed Raeth? What if he found Sam in spite of the Enochian brand? What if that hadn’t even been Raeth and he had just given away his location?

This was panic- true and stark. But it seemed like a stupidly insignificant word for the feeling engulfing him. This was a crushing, relentless all-consuming terror that needed some more potent, more threatening word to describe it.

Sam sat – because standing seemed like something he would never have the strength to do again - on the edge of the bed with his fingers twisted in his hair again, staring at the floor, trying to breathe with his heart beating like a marching band drum. He hated himself for the paralyzing weakness. He was strong. He was resilient. He was a _Winchester_ goddamnit.

Sam had fought his way tooth and claw through to the other side and was beginning to calm down when the sound of sheets snapping in the wind announced Raeth’s arrival.

“Raeth,” he exhaled, for the second time that night.

He never saw her actually walk to him but in the next instance she was standing by the bed and then kneeling on the bed beside him. One moment he was staring into her eyes and the next he was pulling her forcefully into his arms. In return her arms reached for him, around his shoulders, one around his head, holding it tightly against her breast.

“I’m here,” she said.

“Tell me it’s really you,” he pleaded.

“It’s me. I promise you.”

Sam had no choice but to believe her and since he desperately wanted to he accepted it. “Were you followed?”

“No,” she assured him.

She had gone through 200 different dimensions, twisting and turning, sometimes backtracking to make sure no one was following her. Now she was here and Sam looked as if a truck had hit him, backed up and hit him again.

“Tell me what happened,” she said, gently, stroking his face, letting his cheek rest in her palm.

It poured out of him – Lucifer haunting his dreams, stalking him – and she listened and he finished by asking,

“Can you block him? Keep him out of my head? I need to…. I need to sleep. I need to trust what I’m seeing.”

“Yes, I can shield you,” her matter-of-fact tone was comforting. “My time in heaven returned my full strength. It will be easier if we move though. We should go. Can you get your things together?”

“No, I can’t leave,” Sam said, tensing up. “I have to protect Lindsey.”

Raeth sat back on her heels, though she kept a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Who is Lindsey?”

The second story came bursting out – about Steve and Tim and Reggie and how they had forced the demon blood on him and threatened Lindsey and said they would be back and Sam had sworn he would be waiting. Raeth made him back up a few times because she still wasn’t clear on why Sam was here by himself to begin with. By the time she got the whole story and clear on all the details there was blue fire ringing the pupils of her eyes.

She stood up slowly. Her movements were measured and deliberate, in a way that Sam recognized as dangerous.

“I’ll be right back. Pack your things while I’m gone.”

Sam leapt to his feet, eyes widening with alarm. “What are you going to do?” There was no alarm in his voice. There was pure challenge. She was an angel, mesmerizing and mystical. But Sam wasn’t afraid to stand up to her.

“I won’t hurt them,” Raeth answered and then she vanished.

“Raeth!” Sam said, knowing it was too late.


	46. Every Inch a Hunter

When Raeth returned Sam was standing by the desk. There was a duffle bag that looked pretty stuffed on the floor by his feet. Several plastic grocery bags were also gathered in a hastily dumped pile around the duffel.

Sam was still wearing nothing but a pair of threadbare faded grey sweatpants, barefoot and naked from the waist up. The harsh light cast shadows over his jaw and highlighted his forehead and cheekbones. He was standing up, stiff and straight, shoulders squared, every inch of him alert – every inch of him a hunter. He was staring at her, his eyes like granite.

“What did you do?” He demanded, his voice cold.

Raeth felt a flash of heat that was partly anger and partly a reaction to Sam. She’d always been attracted to the human male form. Even in the midst of this current chaos, Sam was a remarkable example of that form. A strange mixture of frustrated annoyance and growing desire rose up in her.

“What do you think I did?” She snapped at him and no had no idea why.

Sam chin went up, just a bit, as if he needed to emphasize the difference in their heights. “I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking.”

“I didn’t kill anyone if that’s what you’re worried about,” she tried to make it sound soothing but it came out condescending, even scornful.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t?”

His skepticism was as infuriating as her scorn. A heated flush had spread over his chest and face and his elegant hands had balled into fists.

Raeth was on the verge of flaring her wings and reminding him exactly who and what she was. But at the moment Sam was the most desirable thing she had seen in millennia. She tore her eyes off of him, breaking away as if to end an enchantment. She was used to facing challenges with equanimity, certain of her power and abilities.

Sam unraveled all that. Some bodily functions were automatic and angels tended to ignore those in their vessels – breathing and heartbeat were necessary to sustain a physical form. But her pulse was suddenly thundering with a new awareness and her heart was doing odd little somersaults. Heated shivers ran over her limbs and she was having trouble breathing.

They were both angry, but there seemed little reason for it. She’d done nothing to deserve his lack of trust or his suspicions. She tried to remember the kind of stress he was under and fought for composure before looking at him again.

Even so, when Raeth spoke again, her teeth were clenched.

“No, I did not kill anyone. Believe it or not, it is actually very difficult for me to kill a human being. All of you are part of my father’s beloved creation, even the worst of you. Unless someone is a direct and _immediate_ threat to you, it won’t be my first choice. I am an angel. I have resources besides an angel blade.”

Sam’s eyes swept over her in a wave that left hot awareness in its wake. When his gaze finally met her eyes, she met it without flinching, staring back with defiance. The air between them seemed to briefly ignite.

She walked up to him until she was barely inches from him, inside his personal space. Sam didn’t move. She was aware of the slightest change in his breathing. A soft shudder passed over him, starting at his shoulders and working its way down. Raeth lifted her hands and put them lightly against his chest, not really touching him but feeling the heat radiating from him. There was just so _much_ of Sam Winchester. Being this close to him was like standing in the shadow of a mountain.

Sam ground his teeth. The muscles in his neck and jaw rippled. “So what. Did. You _do_?” Each word was stressed, so soft she could hardly hear it, more breath than voice.

It was so seductive that for a moment Raeth couldn’t register what he was asking.

“I made them forget,” she answered, finally, looking up from the expanse of skin across his chest .Her hand drifted to his arm and her fingers strayed, maddening, exquisite, tracing delicate lines over the muscles and sinew.

Her touch clearly distracted Sam from the conversation, though only briefly.

“Forget?” He said, shaking his head, causing highlights of wheat and chestnut to gleam in his long, dark hair.

“Yes,” Raeth said, reaching up to catch an errant lock of his hair and smooth it behind his ear, watching as it curled around like a contented cat. She could feel his pulse thundering as her fingers stroked down over his throat and onto his shoulder. “They have no memory that you had anything to do with any of this. They don’t remember where you are; or that they ever wanted to find you. They also don’t remember Lindsey; and Lindsey remembers you but not what happened. She also thinks you told her good-bye. So if you’re ready, we can leave. Is this all of your things?”

Her tone had changed from commanding and angry to low and seductive. Sam was staring down at her as if he was falling into a well. His eyes were an ocean at sunset - dark centers surrounded by licks of gold flame, ringed in blue.

“Umm,” Sam stopped, swallowed and then cleared his throat. “Yes. This is it. They’ve forgotten everything? You’re sure.”

“Yes, and they aren’t coming back,” she assured him.

Sam exhaled but didn’t say anything else. The muscles in his throat and jaw worked. The ocean wave in his eyes turned and grew misty, perhaps with gratitude. His clenched fists relaxed.

“Are you ready to leave?” She asked, again.

“Yes,” he nodded.

Raeth spread her wings, wrapped Sam in a blanket of her power and lifted them away.

(0)

 


	47. Brown Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Brown Eyes by Fleetwood Mac

_You look at me with those brown eyes What do you want to do? Do you have to have me The way that I want you, I want you?_

_When you look at me with those brown eyes What do you want to say? And are you just another liar? Will you take me all the way, all the way?_

Raeth transported them out of the hotel and into another. Sam got his bearings quickly. It was another nondescript room with one king sized bed and the usual motel furnishings – desk, low dresser with several drawers, a TV, a table, lamps and chairs.

His belongings were still clustered at his feet. Raeth was still standing in his breathing space. He didn’t object because he didn’t want her to move. Sam had never really forgotten how beautiful she was. He just couldn’t remember being this aware of it before. In spite of being tired and strung out from stress, Sam felt sharp and hot with desire.

But he was so well trained that certain things were instinct now. One was always being aware of his surroundings and location.

“Where are we?” He demanded.

“I’d rather not tell you,” she answered. She lowered her ginger brown eyes and bit down her lower lip with her lovely even white teeth.

Sam closed his eyes, afraid for a moment he was just going to lean over and kiss her. “Why not?”

Raeth sighed and then said, bluntly. “Because I am going to do everything I can to stop my brother from getting inside your dreams.”

Sam got a surge of adrenaline from that statement. Raeth had told him that Castiel outranked her in ways he couldn’t calculate. He couldn’t imagine she would survive an actual confrontation with Lucifer. He didn’t want anyone else to die because of him. He reached for her hand and laced his fingers with hers. He’d never noticed before how small her hands were.

Raeth was still speaking, in a rush, “But if he does slip through, this way you can’t tell him where you are because you won’t even know. It also makes you harder to find. I want us to move around, randomly, for the next few days. Can you live with that?”

Instead of answering, Sam leaned over and rested his forehead on the top of her head. Eyes closed he said, “I need to know something.”

“What?” He felt her breath against his cheek when she whispered.

“Whose side are you on?” He choked it out, afraid of the answer. A tiny spasm tightened the muscles around his mouth, as if he was expecting a blow. “I have to figure the demons, they’re all on Lucifer’s side. But the angels, the angels seem split. So I need to know – Michael or Lucifer? Whose side are you taking this time?”

Raeth stood up on tiptoe and put a hand on the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair.

“Yours,” she said, “I am now and always will be on your side. Whatever you choose to do, I will follow.”

She drew his head down and kissed his firm, straight lips, coaxing them open. He’d been expecting her to say _Michael_. With a choked sound of relief Sam fell forward into the kiss. Desire raced through him like a fire in dry grass.

The kiss turned reckless with abandon. Sam found her tongue with his own and swept her mouth, pressed tight, as if he wanted to absorb her into his soul. It was clear what he wanted – what they _both_ wanted: to surrender to each other, to give and take what pleasure they could, a long scorching passion that would burn them both away to ashes.

His hands slid down her waist to her hips, pulling her against him and bending her helplessly in his arms so that she had to cling to his strength or fall over. She reached up to get both hands on either side of his face and kissed him fiercely. Sam felt the urgency in it, direct and hot, firing lust. Yet he also felt an echo in her of the soul-deep longing to make everything right again, to heal and protect.

He wondered for a single moment what he had to offer Raeth except heartache.

Then she let go of his face and ran her hands down the muscles of his back, fingers stroking the curve of his spine.

Sam broke off kissing to get his hands under her sweater, finding curves and silk-soft skin. He roamed over the arch of her ribs, the tight muscles of her abs and up until he found the naked weight of her breasts.

Raeth groaned, gasped, pushing at the top of his sweatpants, trying to tug them down. Unbalanced they fell sideways onto the bed. Since Sam was already nearly naked, they wrestled with her clothes. Sam wrenched her sweater over her head and tossed it onto the floor while she tried to get her hands back to work on her boots.

Then with a frustrated groan and a surge of physical power he hadn’t expected, Raeth pushed him away. He fell on to his back across the bed as she knelt up. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were dilated to black surrounded by the thinnest ring of amber-gold. Her skin was flushed with passion. One moment she was kneeling over him still dressed in jeans and boots and the next they were both naked.

There was something to be said about making love to an angel.

Desire flooded Sam like madness. His eyes locked with hers as he surged up, seized her around the waist and tossed her onto the bed as if she weighed nothing at all. Sam stretched out beside her and caught the fingers of one hand in her hair as he slipped the other arm under her and pulled her close.

Raethaniel was a beautiful as a desert sunrise. He was close enough to see now that she had delicate spattering of freckles across her nose. The rest of her skin was a light, toasted tan. She was gazing up at him with those deep, dark eyes, willing and open and ready for him.

Her breasts crushed against his chest as he leaned over to kiss her again. Then her supple fingertips caressed a sensual line down his chest, over his abs and ended by teasing a small circular pattern into the taut skin in the hollow of his hips. He was forced to end the kiss in an attempt to get oxygen to his brain. Face pressed against her hair, he panted for breath, reeling with sensation.

He spread his fingers against the small of her back to lift her up against him. The difference in their heights was proving problematic, since he very much wanted to get his mouth on her breasts. But then coherent thoughts fled as she took his hard shaft in her hand. With certain strokes she rubbed up and down. Her thumb teased below the head until Sam felt as if he was pulsing all over with flickering lightening. It was obvious that Raeth knew what she was doing. She was taking him to the very brink and keeping him there, hovering in ecstasy.

Sam fought his way back into his own mind and grasped her wrist, groaning incoherent sounds meant to make her stop. He got one look at her startled face before he flipped her over. Lying on her back, looking up at him, waiting, she was a portrait of everything he could possible want.

He leaned over and kissed the tip of one breast and then the other, taking that one into his mouth to tease it with his tongue. Raeth’s breathing shattered. Her hands sought his naked back, holding him tight, nails digging into his skin.

She lay there at the mercy of his fascinated mouth and talented hands, long past wanting delicacy or gentleness, knowing that she had never known anything like this. Sam took Raeth crying and groaning into delirium and over the edge, so many times she lost count. When she wept at the power and wonder of it, Sam kissed away her tears, smiling into her eyes.

Finally she put her hand against his shoulder and urged him onto his back. She leaned forward to kiss his mouth as she straddled him. While they kissed and kept kissing in slow, tender touches, Raeth slid down and sheathed his rampant erection in slick welcoming heat.

Sam groaned and put his hands on her hips, thrusting hard, seeking to know her more deeply, to explore, wanting to bring her one more moment of intense pleasure before surrendering to his own. As he plunged and withdrew, Raeth rode him with exquisite subtlety, eyes closed, face pressed against his chest. Sam had never known such a feeling. It was all passion, all heat and sweetness. He drove upward, hardly withdrawing at all now, just pushing forward from where he was. He heard the catch in her breathing that he knew now signaled the beginning of her spiral into climax. With mind-shattering intensity Raeth clenched and shuddered and rode him until the rush of his climax stunned Sam into oblivion.

When he came back to a kind of semi-awareness, Raeth was collapsed on top of him, arms around his neck, face buried in the join of his neck and shoulder. Sam cradled her in his arms and fought for calm breath. He was vaguely aware that they were still connected, but that seemed right, so he didn’t try to move.

Raeth lifted her head from his shoulder and stroked a hand down his cheek.

“Can you sleep now?” She asked, quietly.

Unable to speak, Sam barely managed to nod.

She struggled up and they both groaned as they came apart, hating the separation. Sam dragged his long, exhausted body out of the way and somehow they got the quilt and blanket and sheets sorted out. He crawled under and then sprawled onto his back. But he didn’t really settle down until he was certain that she was going to lie down beside him.

Raeth snuggled up close, one leg draped over his thigh and her arm over his chest.

Sam sighed, either in contentment or surrender. Raeth kissed the underside of his jaw, where his pulse beat in gentle rhythm.

“Go to sleep,” she urged, “You’re safe here.”

Sam wound an arm around her and squeezed tight. “I know,” he exhaled softly just before sleep claimed him.


	48. Dawn

Sam woke later and reached for her, only to have another near panic attack when he thought she was gone. The bed was empty but for him. Sam sat up and took in his surroundings, remembered the change (and slight upgrade) of motel room and then looked frantically for Raeth.

She had gone to push back one of the drapes and stand at the window, silhouetted against a sky that was losing stars and turning misty gray. A faint glow gleamed against the feminine curve of her arm and the shape of her naked shoulders and back, a silver glimmer that highlighted the beauty of her young, athletic vessel – the one she wore with careless indifference to its effect on the male population, at least most of the time.

Sam had no doubts whatsoever now, that she had known exactly what affect her body could have on him.

As if she sensed the very instant he had woken, Raeth had turned to look at him for a moment and then strode back to the bed. He relaxed again, lying back, assured that she was here and realizing that, of course, an angel wouldn’t have to stay in bed for hours at a time. She didn’t have that kind of human frailty when she was at her full strength.

Raeth slipped under the sheets and let him cradle her in his arms again.

“You’re cold,” she observed and Sam realized it was true. It was probably what had woken him up.

“Yeah,” he said, snuggling closer, turning slightly to drape one leg over hers. “What about you?”

“I am not cold,” she told him.

“No, I mean…..,” his voice trailed off uncertainly.

Raeth placed a kiss on shoulder and he could feel the smile in it. “Are you asking whether it was good for me?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that,” Sam replied, without a trace of arrogance or conceit, “Besides, I was told once that if I had to ask a woman that then it probably wasn’t and I should get back in there and try harder.”

Raeth’s laugh was quicksilver. “Who told you that?”

“Dean,” Sam said, and he sounded as if the answer still amused and amazed him, even after all this time.

“Dean told you that?” Raeth was surprised, perhaps even skeptical.

Sam shifted further on his side so he could look into her face. “Yeah, see, I know my brother can be a bit of a hound dog. He loves women and he _really_ likes sex. The thing is, the women he winds up, however briefly, usually he lets them seek him out. They’re all in love with the guy they think Dean is and he can play to that really well. I’ve never let it bother me because of …. Well, something else Dean said to me.”

Curious, Raeth pressed him about it. “What did he say?”

Sam hesitated, a small smile quirking the corners of his mouth. Then he got an expression of _what the hell_ on this face and said, “No one ever really talked to me about sex. Just twice that I can remember. Dean told me,” and here Sam changed his voice to an almost dead-on impression of his brother speaking, “Sammy, look, you’re a guy and you’re always going to get yours. So you need to make sure she gets hers first and as many times as possible or you don’t deserve to get yours at all,” Sam took a breath and cleared his throat while Raeth exhaled a short amused laugh.

Sam’s hand stroked gently up her back, as if he was trying to memorize the shape of her. His fingers played with the long, trailing ends of her hair. “That’s when he finished up by telling me that if I had to ask then it probably wasn’t. So I figure the girls Dean is with know it’s not going to be forever and he does whatever he can to make sure they both have a great time; and then I don’t let it bother me because it really isn’t any of my business anyway.”

Raeth lifted up on her elbow a little bit and looked down at him. His eyes were dark in the shadowed room. His hair was tousled and curled against his neck and shoulders. His hand was resting on her hip, long fingers dark against her skin.

“When was the other time?” She asked.

“What other time?”

“You said that someone spoke to you about sex twice. When was the other time?”

“Oh,” Sam said and then laughed a little. “The only other time was my Uncle Bobby and what he had to say amounted to ‘Son, no means no and stop means stop and it doesn’t matter when she says it and if I find out you _ever_ didn’t listen to either of those words I will tie your dick in a knot myself. Do you understand me, Boy?’ And I very quickly nodded and said, ‘Yes,sir’ because I was pretty sure he meant.”

Raeth lifted her eyebrows and stared. “You know that’s a physical impossibility. Right?” Then she grinned with seductive mischief in her eyes. “Even for you.”

She ran her hand down the considerable length of his waist, to his hip and let it drift past the considerable length of his organ. His body stirred with interest and she felt the heated flush that rose up through his chest and neck.

“It’s proportionate,” he said, a bit defensively.

Raeth laughed appreciatively. “Please don’t take that as a complaint; and even if you didn’t ask I will tell you that it was different than I remember it from centuries ago but no less wondrous.”

“It was different?” Sam asked, wondering how sex could have changed, even after millennia.

“Well, yes, the last time I in a male vessel, remember?”

“Oh!” Sam said, and then took a moment to wrestle with the implications of that. “Oh, well yeah, I guess it would be different. I didn’t think about you, y’know, having a different form or being in a relationship that long ago. Let me guess – one of Solomon’s daughters?”

Raeth’s generous mouth curled into another smile. “One of his sons actually.”

Sam couldn’t help the grunt of surprise that burst out but he got over it quickly. Raeth lifted a shoulder, saying, “I’ve always been more attracted to the male of your species, I guess.”

Sam’s answer was given in a breathless, seductive murmur, “Lucky for me.”

She stopped his words, putting her hands on either side of his face and kissing him. Sam met her tongue with his and then pushed her over onto her back. Raeth went willingly, surrendered when he took her hands and pinned them over her head. He became aroused quickly, almost instantly. She felt him, solid and wanting, pressed against her legs.

Slowly, exquisitely, as dawn broke beyond the window, Sam began to ravish her again.

(0)

 

 


	49. Lamechiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: “Then” is a tag for Red Sky at Morning. Lamechiel’s vessel is being played by Tom Welling.

**Then:**

Sam was shouting over the storm, standing strong against the wind and lightning.

“Azrael, Castiel, Lamechiel, Rabam. Ehrley, et balam, ego vos conuro, per deum verum, per deum vivum (pause) cuivos cuiaves eos supermontes et per eum, qui adam, et avum formovit. Et per eum……”

The rain was lashing down, hard, but it couldn’t touch the 4 angels watching over the proceedings below. They had been summoned by a Winchester and it was a hard summons to ignore. They were above the Earth, and below it and within it. No one had spoken their names for millennia, not until Sam Winchester, who believed in them and had read about them, had read everything he could get his hands on and put his faith in the, He knew their names and their purpose: Azrael, the angel who guarded Death and the only archangel among them, Castiel the guardian of this day, Lamechiel, the angel who thwarted deception, Rahab, angel of the sea.

Azrael found the one they were seeking, dead but not at rest, in heaven but not at peace, sailing an endless sea under cloudless skies. _You are needed_ , he said, reassuringly, without words. _Your brother needs you_. He guided the former captain’s soul to earth and placed him in front of his brother - the angry spirit with the missing hand.

Lamechiel whispered to them, demanding truth, demanding peace between them while Rahab calmed the sea and the water as it tried to drown the woman who was held in Dean Winchester’s arms.

Castiel guarded the day from tragedy, from hurt and pain and sorrow, at least for these three immortal souls, willing a successful outcome for no better reason than that Sam Winchester had chosen to ask him for it.

Sam, the boy with the demon blood who yet clung to his beliefs about heaven and angels and dared to call on them because he knew they would answer him.

And Castiel realized with a rush that sounded like thunder and lightning how much the brothers loved each other, both the ones who were trying to save the woman and the ones who had betrayed each other all those decades before.

The rain faded, and with their help, the Winchesters succeed in ending the cursed brother’s vengeance. The souls of the sailor brothers are taken to heaven by Azrael. Rahab vanished in a heavy flurry of wings.

Lamechiel paused, looking down at the Winchesters for a long moment before glancing at Castiel, nodding and then lifting his wings and returning to heaven.

Only Castiel lingered, stuck in a quandary of how one brother could kill another – something even the angels were guilty of - but Dean Winchester had willingly given his soul to hell for no other reason than to save his brother’s life.

Uriel appeared beside him.

“They are missing you in the garrison, brother,” he said.

Castiel didn’t answer. Instead he said, “I do not understand why brothers must turn against brothers.”

Uriel appeared dismissive. “So it has always been, from the time of Cain and Abel and even before in our own ranks, beginning with Michael and Lucifer.”

“Michael didn’t kill Lucifer,” Castiel protested.

“He might as well have, caging him for eternity is no life.”

Castiel struggled to understand what the archangel was trying to say to him. “He was locked up for his own good, to be given the chance to repent. Do you not believe that Lucifer deserved his fate?”

Heavily Uriel said, “He was our brother. He _is_ our brother.” There was a long pause in which Castiel said nothing and Uriel finally said, “Come back home. Your family is waiting.”

Uriel vanished but Castiel did not follow him right away. Perhaps the angels were better than the humans as many angels insisted.

But why then, Castiel wondered, had there never been an angel who had willingly gone to Hell to save another?

His heart heavy with questions, Castiel spread his wings and returned to heaven.

(0)

**Now:**

Raeth tried not to hear everything Dean was saying on the other end of the phone call. But angel hearing being what it was she couldn’t really help it. Sam knew she was listening and he didn’t seem to care.

“Look, Dean, I can do this. I can. I'm going to prove it to you,” Sam was saying into the phone. He was becoming more and more agitated as the conversation progressed. He had one hand on the wheel of the ancient car they had purchased and his skin was stretched tight over his knuckles.

Dean muffled voice sounded tired and stressed, but Raeth wasn’t certain Sam heard anything but rejection. “ _Look, Sam—it doesn't matter—whatever we do. I mean, it turns out that you and me, we're the, uh, the fire and the oil of the Armageddon. You know, on that basis alone, we should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good._ ”

“Dean,” Sam exhaled a little desperately because this was his _brother._ Dean had never turned Sam away. Dean had gone to _Hell_ to save him. It seemed impossible that Sam could tell Dean that Lucifer wanted him for a vessel and Dean would shrug it off and tell him to stay away. “It does not have to be like this. We can fight it.”

Dean didn’t disagree. But his response was harsh. “ _Yeah, you're right. We can. But not together. We're not stronger when we're together, Sam. I think we're weaker. Because whatever we have between us—love, family, whatever it is—they are always going to use it against us; and you know that. Yeah, we're better off apart. We got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing, if we just go our own ways._ ”

Sam begged once more, “Dean, don't do this.”

But Dean only said, “ _Bye, Sam_ ,” and cut the connection.

Sam stared out the windshield, gripping the steering wheel in one hand and the phone in the other until Raeth was sure one or both of them was going to break.

“Sam,” she said, gently, trying to break him out of the heartbroken trance he was falling into. “He doesn’t mean it. He’s just scared.”

Sam snorted and shook his head, tossing the phone on the seat between them and wiping the back of his hand across his eyes before putting it back on the wheel.

“My brother isn’t scared of anything; not even things that he should be.”

“You don’t really believe that,” Raeth said. “He’s a brave man but he isn’t stupid enough not to fear anything. He didn’t just reject you, Sam. He’s just scared and he thinks the best way to protect you is to stay apart.”

Sam didn’t speak for a long time. The road and the darkness rolled away beneath the tires. Then he finally said,

“These last few days, with you, made me realize how much I need to get back into this. I can’t hide anymore. But I can’t do this without my brother.”

“Yes, you can. You’re a hunter and a good one,” Raeth said. Then she gestured at the street sign passing over their heads. “Get off at this exit.”

“Why?”

“I told you, I need your help with something. There is someone you need to meet first.”

“Someone you trust?”

“Completely.”

“Okay.”

Sam pulled off and followed Raeth’s directions to a nondescript ranch-style house at the end of a secluded street. He parked in the driveway, which was empty. They got out and walked up to the front door. Neither of them got a chance to knock or ring the bell. The door was opened by a tall young man with ink black hair and striking blue eyes. He was good-looking enough to be a model, Hollywood handsome. His smile was friendly and he pushed the door wide to welcome them.

“Raethaniel,” he said, bending down to give her a hug. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”

“Of course, I’d come and I brought Sam.”

The man’s smile broadened but Sam could see the curiosity in his eyes. “Sam Winchester,” he said, musingly, “So it’s true. I have no sense of your presence at all. Come in though. I’m being rude, making you wait on the porch.”

They stepped into the front room of the rancher. It was sparsely furnished, with a couch and coffee table, a chair and a couple of lamp tables.

Once inside, Sam looked at Raethaniel for some kind of clarification.

“Sam,” Raeth said, “I’d like you to meet my brother, the angel who thwarts deception, Lamechiel.”

Sam inhaled a little as he remembered the times he had called upon the angel and was momentarily speechless. Lamechiel smiled as he saw the understanding dawning in Sam’s expression.

“Yes,” the angel said, “You asked for my help on many occasions and now I find I must ask for yours.”

(0)


	50. Revelation 9:15

Sam couldn’t even begin to imagine what two angels would need from him. But then again he hadn’t ever imagined the tetramorph. Briathos betrayal was still fresh in his mind and he wasn’t at all certain about dealing with the angel of deception – no matter if Raeth claimed to trust him.

“Mecha, what if we let Sam sit down for a bit, maybe eat something?” Raeth said, “Before we tell him.”

“I’m not hungry,” Sam said. “What is going on? Does it have something to do with the world ending?”

“Come in and sit down,” Lamechiel said, “It’s been a while since I inhabited an earthbound vessel. My social skills may be rusty.”

Sam and Raethaniel followed him into the kitchen. Raeth started opening cabinets until she found coffee.

“Do you want coffee?” She asked Sam, indicating the machine on the counter.

“I don’t want to use up all this guy’s stuff,” Sam said, sitting down at the table.

“My vessel offers his services willingly,” Lamechiel said. “He understands the situation.”

“We can replace it, Sam,” Raeth told him.

Looking weary, Sam nodded and took the can from her, since he doubted the angels knew how to work a coffee maker. Raeth was looking at him anxiously and he got the feeling she’d be happier if she thought there was some self-care going on. Once the machine was happily humming and the scent of coffee was filling the kitchen Sam turned and rested back against the counter, crossing his ankles and folding his arms.

“So what’s happening now?” He asked.

“How familiar are you with the written description of the Apocalypse?” Lamechiel asked.

“I know most of it,” Sam answered.

“Do you know Revelation 9:15?”

“I don’t have it broken down like that in my head and most of it sounds like someone’s tripping on shrooms. But give me the gist of it.”

Somberly, Lamechiel recited, “And the four angels, who had been prepared for the hour and day and month and year, were released—“

Sam cut him off and finished it, “So that they would kill a third of mankind. The number of the armies of the horsemen was two hundred million; I heard the number of them. And this is how I saw in the vision the horses and those who sat on them: the riders had breastplates the color of fire and of hyacinth and of brimstone; and the heads of the horses are like the heads of lions; and out of their mouths came fire and smoke and brimstone.”

Lamechiel regarded Sam with a long measured look, as if he was reevaluating a previous opinion.

Sam ignored it, “Are you telling me this is the hour and the month and all of that? Right now? You do you know when it’s coming?”

“In a way we do,” Raeth said. “But what’s important is that we’ve learned the names of the fallen angels and we’re able to track them.”

Sam absorbed that and went straight to the correct conclusion. “Stop the angels, stop the army?”

“Yes,” Lamechiel answered. “But those angels have fallen so far they are now demonic.”

Sam smirked a little. “Take out 4 angels and we stop an army of 200 million riding lion-headed horses?”

Lamechiel stood up a little straighter and squared his shoulders.

“Mecha,” Raeth said, warningly. “Sam is just trying to understand what we’re asking of him.”

Lamechiel turned his head to look at her so that Sam was looking at him in profile. Looking from one to the other Sam was struck by how much they both looked like angels.

“So?” Lamechiel asked.

“So he gets to be a little sarcastic if he wants,” Raeth said, defensively. “Sam, some of Revelation is indeed exaggerated, if I understand your reference to ‘tripping on shrooms’ correctly. The army is still considerable and it is still capable of destroying a third of humanity. But it draws its power from the fallen angels commanding it. They are more powerful than demons. To answer your question, yes, stop the angels and the army comes to a halt.”

“And the lion-headed horses?”

“A metaphor,” she told him.

“Explain it,” Sam said.

Raeth gathered her thoughts. “The demons are said to ‘ride’ a creature with the head of a lion. The Lion is one of Lucifer’s symbols. The ‘head of a lion’ means that they are Lucifer’s creatures, though there is no literal creature. It refers to the mindset of this army, how they have been conditioned. They move with the mind of Lucifer and follow his will. But they _are_ tied to their angel commanders and they _will_ die without them.”

Sam swallowed tightly. It was easier to dismiss the image of a lion-headed horse. It was harder for him, now after his recent experience, to dismiss the idea of Lucifer being inside a mind, twisting it to his will.

“We are fortunate in one case,” Mecha interjected, “Raethaniel destroyed one of them centuries ago, after forcing him into obedience to Solomon.”

“Which one?” Sam wondered.

“Asmodeus,” Raeth answered.

Sam had been turning around to look in the cabinets for a coffee mug. But he stopped dead and looked back at Raeth with a look of complete shock.

“The arch demon?” Sam choked out, “He was a fallen angel?”

“Not all fallen angels become demons,” Raeth told him, “But yes, Asmodeus was the worst and he needed to be stopped.”

“I know who he was. His name is in all the demon lore. He was the first king of Hell. I wondered what happened to him.”

Raeth looked away and Sam was suddenly aware that there were tears in her eyes. Lamechiel stepped towards her and put a hand under her elbow. He murmured something in Enochian that Sam didn’t understand.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, genuinely concerned. “Raeth?”

“The angel Ashmedai was my partner,” she answered. “He was strong, powerful. His true form was a winged bull who was glorious to behold. We worked together for longer than you can possibly imagine. At first we worked as a team, capturing demons and giving them over to Solomon. But he fell in love with one of Solomon’s wives and moved Solomon 4000 leagues away. Then he masqueraded as Solomon until I caught him out in the lie. I retrieved Solomon and Ashmedai fled. We couldn’t find him for a centuries and when we did finally find him, he had fallen so far as to become a demon – an arch demon, who had changed his name to Asmodeus. He had done… unspeakable evil. He had fled into Hell and was in league with Abaddon, Lilith…. I had to petition Raphael to help me find and destroy him because I wasn’t sure I could do it myself. He was my friend, my partner, my _brother_ and all I could do was curse him with words while my heart bled from the betrayal. I had to destroy him because of what he had done, what he had become.”

The words cut too close to the heart and marrow for Sam. He held out a hand to her, gesturing for her to come closer.

“C’mere,” he said.

He gathered her up in his arms. Raeth put her hands on his hips and rested her forehead against his chest, just below his heart. Sam held onto her, trying to figure out what he could say that would make some kind of difference and realizing that words were hollow. There was nothing he could say that would change the searing pain of loss and then having to be the one to end his life.

And now apparently there were still three more fallen angels out there who would have to die. Sam hoped that they were not personally known to Raeth. He stroked a hand down her back, over the imaginary scar from the knife-wound of betrayal. Then he held onto her until she relaxed, lifted her head and let her body fall fully against him. He squeezed tighter, more tightly than he would have dared hug a normal human. He couldn’t hurt Raeth. There was joy in that. He didn’t have to constantly be wary of his own strength. She hugged him back and it felt like gratitude.

“And the other 3?” He asked, looking over her head at Mecha.

“Only 1 remains,” Lamechiel answered.

Sam was startled and let that show. Raeth unwound from him, though she remained standing by him.

“Amondai was found and dealt with,” Mecha told him, “Then we found Saleos but he had been warned. He is gone but we lost 5 good angels in the process.”

Sam got a warning tingle up the length of his spine.

“So you want me to take out the last one,” he said, “because he won’t know I’m there.”

The look Raeth gave Mecha was almost triumphant, in an _I told you he was brilliant_ kind of way.

“We don’t want you to do this alone, Sam,” she said, “I’ll be with you. Mecha will be with you. Castiel has promised his help. There will be others.”

“But he’ll sense you all coming,” Sam objected.

“Our plan is to drive him towards you, towards what he thinks is safety,” Mecha explained.

“You can wield an angel blade, Sam; not all humans can,” Raeth said, and it sounded as if she was proud of him, amazed by him. “If even one of the fallen angels survives the army can still be raised. It is imperative that we do this.”

Sam turned away, found a mug in an upper cabinet and poured coffee into it. He took the cup to the table and sat down, wrapping his hands around it for a moment before downing it, hot and black. After staring, unseeing, at the top of the table for a few minutes he sighed heavily and said,

“When do we start?”

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	51. The Great Serpent

Sam woke up with Raeth beside him. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing evenly. He might almost have believed she was asleep but he knew she had only stayed with him because he had asked her to.

They had not spoken anymore of the plan to kill the remaining fallen angel. It had already been almost midnight and Raeth had insisted that Sam sleep. Now it was nearly dawn, which was when he typically woke up. Sam was used to getting little to no rest, or curling up in some impossible position in the Impala and catching what sleep he could, especially in the middle of something important. He figured there was nothing more important than preventing the end of the world. So it was little wonder he was awake before the first rays of the sun had touched the curtained windows.

He lay there on his side, with his arms around Raeth, staring straight ahead into the stillness and waiting for her to speak.

It took longer than he expected. Usually she ‘woke’ as soon as she realized he was no longer sleeping. When she finally stirred, as if rousing from a trance, Sam’s pulse did an odd little stutter. The unsteady beat flared for a moment and then relaxed again; at least until she opened her eyes and he was looking down into dark brown sugar and molasses, drowning in it…..

“Sam?” Raeth asked, lifting her head, alarmed.

He exhaled a self-deprecating laugh and said, “I’m fine. What about you? What were you doing just then?”

“I was communicating, listening to, what is it you called our form communication? Angel radio?”

“Dean called it that, actually,” Sam said, never wanting to take credit for anything he hadn’t done (though Raeth had noticed he always seemed willing to take the blame for things, even if it could be shown that he had nothing to do with it.) “What are they saying?”

The fact that she snuggled closer to him and put her head back against his chest and arm was baffling to Sam; because what really could he do to protect an angel? He tightened his hold anyway, instinctively stroking a hand down her silky mass of hair, ending by curling a stray lock around his finger.

“The fighting has been put down, though the hostilities continue. Michael ordered everyone into neutral quarters.

Sam frowned, “What about the earthbound angels? Trying to shut down the Apocalypse _he_ wanted to start doesn’t seem neutral.”

“Michael isn’t concerned with the minor details,” she said, sounding dry and wounded.

“Like a third of humanity being wiped out?” Sam sounded justifiably angry.

“I don’t think he’d care if we stopped that. He just doesn’t want anything to happen to you or Dean.”

“That’s why he asked you to continue to watch over me,” Sam guessed, correctly. “He knew I was Lucifer’s vessel.”

“And why Cas is supposed to watch over Dean,” she nodded.

She saw the pain that knowledge caused him. It drifted across his face unfiltered.

“Sam,” Raeth said, gently putting her hand on the back of his head and forcing him to look at her. “I am with you because I _want_ to be.” She stopped and bit down on her lower lip.

“I thought angels didn’t have any free will,” he noted.

“They aren’t supposed to,” she answered, “Funny huh? I told you, I’m not on anyone’s side now but yours.”

The pain in his eyes changed to tenderness. He kissed the top of her head. She had been forced into this situation and yet she had shown him nothing but the staunchest loyalty, a raw kind of courage and even a sense of humor.

“Is that going to get you in trouble?” Sam asked, genuinely worried.

“Michael can’t be upset with me when I’m doing exactly what he wants me to do, regardless of my reasons.”

“Are you sure about that? Doesn’t he want me to say yes to Lucifer?”

“It doesn’t matter what he wants. Even he can’t interfere with your free will. No one can.”

Sam sighed and then flopped over onto his back, throwing his arm up over his eyes.

“Tell me about Lucifer,” he said, unexpectedly, catching her off guard.

“Why?” She asked slowly, drawing out the word as if she was alarmed beyond measure..

“First law of hunting – know the enemy,” Sam shrugged. “My father and brother drilled that into me.”

Raeth frowned, causing a delicate V to form between her upswept brows. “It was so long ago, Sam.”

Sam took his arm down, moving it up under his head instead, and looked up at the ceiling. The light was beginning to filter into the room, casting things in soft shadows.

“But you knew him,” he insisted. “You can tell me some things. What is his true form?”

She hesitated and Sam felt a moment of true dismay, worried that he had somehow offended her. He started to retract the question but she spoke before he could.

“He is a dragon,” she said.

Sam was so startled he couldn’t speak for the space of several heartbeats. Then he blurted, “Like you?”

Raeth sat up, pulling out of his arms and drawing her knees against her chest. Her hair fell down over her bare back – a cascade of starlight in the half-dawn. For a moment Sam thought she was crying but then he realized she was laughing softly. He rolled onto his side and lifted up on his elbow.

“Raeth? Baby, you okay? I’m sorry if I-“

She tossed back her hair so she could look at him. It was not flirtatious at all, though she certainly looked provocative doing it, especially combined with the sideways look she was giving him. Raeth stroked a strong, long-fingered hand gently down his cheek. It was meant to soothe but it only acted to remind him that he was alone in bed with a beautiful woman. Sam swallowed hard as his blood stirred in little eddies of pleasure.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, dismissing his apology. Her eyes looked off into the distance, without focusing on anything in the room. She spoke as if she was picturing her long-lost brother in her mind. “Lucifer is a dragon like me the way a tiger is like a newborn house cat. He is the great serpent of Revelation. He is beautiful and horrible to behold. He is scarlet and crimson and gold. He is fire and he is power.”

Sam considered that, absorbing the information as unemotionally as he could. Keeping his voice steady he said,

“What else can you tell me about him? Does he have a weakness?”

“Arrogance,” she answered instantly. “He claims that he rebelled because he was commanded to love humanity more than our father and he couldn’t do that. The truth is he cannot love anything more than himself. I am not certain he can love anything _but_ himself. It is the absolute certainty that he is right that makes him cruel.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Sam’s mouth but he didn’t let it form. “I thought it was a long time ago? It sounds like you remember him very well.”

Raeth started to speak when the sound of Sam’s phone interrupted them. He jumped out of bed saying, “That’s Dean.”

He picked up his jeans from the floor, where he had discarded them the night before and pulled out his phone as if rang for the third time.

“Dean? Are you all right?” He paused, breathless, tense, then said, “You do? Really? …. No, I’m not in the middle of anything. Not yet anyway. …. Yeah. I’ll be there.”

He broke the connection and told Raeth, “He wants to meet and talk. We have to go.”

“What? Now?” She asked, even as she flung back covers and stood up. “You haven’t eaten breakfast. Don’t you at least want to shower? I’ve never seen you pass up a chance to clean up.”

Sam paused and considered. “All right. A quick shower. Would you pack up everything else and get it to the car? I’ll get food on the way.” As if he had just realized that he was ordering around his guardian angel, he added, “Do you mind?”

Raeth waved a hand and suddenly she was dressed and everything that had been on the floor was gone, presumably back in his duffle bag. The bed was made and there was a change of clothes laid out on it.

It took Sam’s breath away for a moment. Her chin was lifted, her eyes dark and mysterious. She looked calm, beautiful and powerful.

But her voice was gentle and lilting as she said, “Go take your shower, Sam. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

In the next moment, she vanished, taking all of their things with her.

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	52. Don't Ever Say That!

**Now:**

Sam stopped at Starbuck’s on the way to the interstate and got three **turkey bacon & white cheddar breakfast sandwiches, a venti **coffee and an apple Danish. He talked Raeth into getting a cheese Danish and cold green tea, which she did only because it seemed that he liked it when she ate with him. He bolted down two of the sandwiches practically before they reached the on ramp. That seemed to take the edge off his hunger.

Twenty miles down the road he’d finished the other sandwich and his Danish. Raeth broke the top quarter of her Danish off and held out the rest of it to him. They had not spoken since leaving the house, after assuring Lamechiel that they would return and if all went well, they would have the other Winchester with them.

“You don’t want it?” Sam asked, eyeing the morsel in her hand. He looked as if he really wanted it, but didn’t want to seem greedy.

“I don’t need it,” she said, sweeping his almost 6 and half foot frame with a critical gaze. He hadn’t really eaten at all in the first two days since her return. The stress and tension of waiting for Lucifer to appear in his dreams had taken his appetitie. She wsa delighted to see him eating again. “But I suspect you do. Eat, Sam. I’ll be a good angel and drink my tea.”

Sam’s mouth turned up in a slight smile of gratitude. He took it and finished it in a few bites, wiping crumbs with the back of his hand and chasing it with the rest of his coffee.

Raeth continued to regard him. His profile was clean and sharp, stunningly carved cheek and brow bones, sensuous mouth and deep set eyes. His lashes were surprisingly dark, spikey and long. Today, his eyes were storm-cloud gray, almost opaque. His hands on the wheel were large, gracefully molded with strong tendons. There was a hard callus on his trigger finger and other calluses that betrayed his familiarity with weapons. His hands spoke of masculine power, partly inherent and partly hard-won.

Raeth had seen Sam exercising with little more than his own body to work with – running up and down the steps at motels, squats, crunches, push-ups. He ran every chance he got, for miles sometimes and Raeth often wondered if Sam thought he could run from the real things that haunted him. She had offered to run with him a few times but he had declined. Since then Raeth had learned that Sam often preferred solitude and the comfort of his own company.

He shifted in the seat, moved his hands to a different place on the wheel. His shoulders flexed the way a panther’s flexed when stalking through the jungle.

“Are you upset with me?” He asked, catching her off guard.

“What? No! Why would you think that?”

Sam shrugged, his head ducked a little. “My brother calls and I ditch a planning meeting to stop one third of the world from being destroyed. I thought you might wonder about my priorities.”

“I’ve never had any doubts or questions about your priorities, Sam,” Raeth informed him. “Dean is your brother. You called him first and if he had given you a different answer you wouldn’t have gone with me to meet Lamechiel. We’d have already been on the road back to Dean. I understand. The two of you have a long history.”

Sam didn’t answer right away. When he finally did speak his voice shook with contained grief. “Dean has been in my life every day since the first one. I mean, I guess he remembers a time without me. But I think no baby brother in the history of baby brothers ever had an older brother who took care of them the way Dean did with me. I don’t remember ever not having him.”

Raeth studied him, wondering if she should tell him about the multiple lifetimes his soul had lived with Dean’s. But there was a good reason that past memories were denied and Raeth understood it. Feeling her gaze on him, Sam looked away from the interstate long enough to make serious eye contact before fixing his attention once more on the road.

“So you’re not mad?”

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “No, Sam. I’m not mad.”

“Okay,” he said, “Good.”

(0)

**Then:**

“Tell me three things in this room you could use as weapons?” Dean demanded suddenly.

Eleven year-old Sam looked up from his Game Boy and shook his bangs out of his eyes. The Game Boy was old but it was more interesting that most of the other things that passed as toys in the life of the Winchester boys.

The look in his dark gray eyes betrayed the fact that he wanted to blow off the question all together. After a moment of silence he looked back at his game.

“Sam!” Dean barked.

Sighing and not looking up again, Sam said, “The lamp, this chair and your breath.”

Dean closed his eyes and turned his head as if he was trying to physically restrain himself from punching his brother.

“Sam, I’m serious!”

“So am I! You should think about cutting down on the onions in the next burger.”

“You’re such a little bitch,” Dean growled.

“And you’re a jerk!” Sam shot back

Dean theatrically grabbed at his chest and pretended to fall backwards.

“Oh, I’m a _jerk_. You’ve killed me with that one.”

“Shut up.”

“ _You_ shut up.”

“Dean!”

“What?”

“I’m trying to concentrate here.”

“And I’m trying to make sure you know how to defend yourself from the next threat that crawls out of the woodwork.”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t need to. You’ll be here.”

“What if I’m not?” Dean demanded.

Sam’s gut clenched up and he lost interest in his game. “Don’t say that! You’ll always be here!”

“What if I’m not?”

The attack was so sudden, even Dean didn’t see it coming. Of course he hardly expected his scrawny little brother to launch off the chair and barrel into him like a runaway truck, screaming, “Don’t say that! EVER!”

Sam was barely 4 and half feet tall and weighed maybe 80 pounds soaking wet. Dean was pushing 6 feet and had already inherited his father’s broad shoulders. Sam shouldn’t have been able to knock him down, much less push him clear across the room and into the bed. Dean had wanted to work on some self-defense with Sam. He just hadn’t expected it to be hand to hand combat. He hit the bed, rolled back, lifting Sam with his legs and pitching him over the bed and onto the floor on the other side. Sam gathered himself in the air, twisted around and landed crouched on his feet. Dean launched across the bed and made a grab for him. But there was only air where Sam had once been.

Sam had jumped sideways, grabbed a handful of change off the nightstand that was attached to the wall and flung it into Dean’s face. A quarter skipped off his forehead and opened a cut above his eyebrow.

“You little-“ Dean started.

“Don’t call me little!” Sam shrieked.

“ _Little bitch!”_ Dean finished.

With more intensity and single mindedness than any 11 year-old should have, Sam came back at Dean. He hunched over and came in low, rolling onto his side at the last minute, tangling his legs between Dean’s and twisted his much larger brother to the floor. The air rushed out of Dean with a hard _uhhh._ Sam scrambled to his feet and tried to get away, but Dean rolled and grabbed his ankle, yanking Sam backwards.

“Ha! Got you now,” Dean gloated, kneeling up and continuing to drag Sam towards him.

Sam pretended to give up. But when he was close enough he slammed a foot into his brother’s crotch. Sam was leaping up shouting in triumph as Dean was folding over and hollering in pain.

Sam was running for the motel room door when Dean overcame his agony and lunged after him. He tackled Sam around the waist and together they crashed over into the rickety table.

Two hundred plus pounds of Winchester was too much for the table. It collapsed from the weight and Sam and Dean went crashing down with it.

They forgot all about whatever had caused the wrestling match. They staggered to their feet, helping each other up.

“Fuck,” Dean said.

“Dad doesn’t like it when you cuss,” Sam pointed out.

“Dad isn’t going to like coming back to _that_ ,” Dean said, waving a hand at the splintered remains of the table.

They stood there panting, looking back and forth from the table to one another.

“Unless Dad never sees it,” Sam said, quietly.

“What?” Dean asked.

“The table in the empty room next door is the same. I saw it when the door was open yesterday, when the lady was cleaning it,” Sam explained.

Dean didn’t doubt that even for a second; not if Sammy said it was true. The kid had learned to be scary observant, sitting all alone in the backseat of the Impala. Dean wiped the blood from his cut forehead away and then said,

“Come on. I’ll show you how to pick a cheap lock.”

(0)

**Now:**

Dean had texted Sam directions to a lonely place beside a bridge. As they got closer to it, Raeth said,

“I think you should talk to Dean on your own.”

“You can wait in the car?”

“No,” she said, “This is between the two of you. If you don’t mind, I’ll go check in with Mecha and see if I can track down Castiel.”

Sam gave a wry smile. “You go talk to your brothers and I’ll go talk to mine?”

“Something like that.”

Sam pulled up to a stop sign at the foot of an off ramp. Raeth slid across the seat and kissed his cheek.

“Good luck,” she said, “That the correct wish, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, with a shy affectionate look. “Be safe.”

She evaporated, leaving him alone. He drove a few miles and then found the dirt road just as Dean had described it. He didn’t see anything at first. But then he spotted the Impala and, leaning against it, the familiar form of his older brother. Heart beating heavily, Sam drove to meet him.

(0)


	53. Angels of Destruction

Dean sat across from Castiel, leaning forward, arms on the table and his hands around a cold bottle of beer. They were in the kitchen of the safe house with Lamechiel, Raethaniel and Sam. The angels had all decided to let Cas tell Dean their plan because it seemed that Dean would be more likely to go along with it.

Besides, even if he argued with Cas, they all knew that if Sam was in, Dean was in. He wouldn’t let Sam do something like this alone. Dean had seen the real exhaustion that seemed to be lurking in Sam’s eyes. He knew the furrow between Sam’s brows was more than anxiety.

Outwardly, Dean hadn’t so much as glanced at anyone but Cas; and no one else had spoken. Sam was picking at the label on his beer bottle with his thumb nail and seemed intent on looking at the table as if he was trying to memorize it, trying hard not to catch his brother’s eye.

When Castiel finished speaking there was a long silence in which Sam destroyed the beer bottle label and Dean finished drinking his in several long slow swallows. Raeth walked over and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, squeezing gently and then offering him a full bottle. Sam waved it off but gave her a small, wan smile of gratitude.

Dean exhaled slowly and then looked straight into Castiel’s intense blue eyes.

“When it comes to angels,” he said, slowly “you I trust.” He paused and then looked up at Raethaniel, “ _You_ I trust, at least when it comes to protecting Sammy.” Then he turned his upper body to face Lamechiel. “You, I don’t know. So I don’t trust you.”

Lamechiel stood up straighter. A dark scowl appeared on his handsome features. Cas spoke quickly,

“Mecha. Sam and Dean have not been treated well by angels; especially not lately. Zechariah-“

“I am _not_ Zechariah,” Lamechiel spoke through clenched teeth.

Castiel moved so fast no one saw it; at least, neither of the Winchesters saw it. One moment Cas was seated. The next he was standing toe to toe with Lamechiel, looking up forcefully into the other angel’s eyes.

“Nor are you Briathos,” Cas’s voice was like hot coals, rough and burning, “but _Dean Winchester_ doesn’t know that and you’re asking him to go up against a demon angel who has been training for this moment for eons. He’s going to be risking his life. So he gets to decide who he’ll be trusting in this situation. Is that understood?”

Lamechiel swallowed and looked down at the floor. Behind Sam, Raeth had dropped her hand from his shoulder and stood up straighter, as if she was coming to attention. The air in the room changed. It was suddenly charged with tension. Sam was sharply reminded that Raeth had once told him that Cas outranked her, that the ways in which he outranked her were impossible to calculate. Angel of the Seventh heaven, Seraph….. It seemed that Cas had vanished for a moment. But _Castiel_ was there in full force. The specter of his wings darkened the wall behind him.

Lamechiel was taller and broader than Cas. He was almost as big as Sam. But he backed down, ducking his head and looking away.

“ _Do_ you understand?” Castiel demanded again.

“Cas,” Raeth begged, softly. “Enough of our brothers and sisters are fighting each other.”

Cas turned around and speared her with a look that should have seared through her and scorched the wall behind her.

“I just want everyone to understand who is in charge here,” he growled.

“You?” Dean demanded, matching blue fire with green.

Cas turned back to the table and said, “No _, you_ ; and Sam too, of course.”

That took some of the fire out of Dean’s eyes. He nodded satisfied. “Okay, then sit back down and let’s discuss this.”

Cas obeyed, which went a long way to cementing the idea that he had just ceded control over to Dean. Cas gestured Lamechiel into the other chair.

Sam rolled his eyes, turned and reached for the beer Raeth had offered him before. When she handed it to him, Sam caught her wrist and pulled her down into his lap. There were no other chairs and it didn’t seem right that she was standing. But he also liked the closeness, the implied intimacy. Raeth hesitated but then settled, leaning against him. She reached up and took an errant lock of his hair between her fingers and smoothed it back behind his ear.

Sam was aware that Dean had just given him a long, hard look. But he ignored it and Dean finally went back to discussing the matter at hand.

“All right so what are we dealing with? A demon angel? What the hell is that?”

“Any angel who falls and gives over his power to Hell becomes a demon angel. They still have all their angelic powers,” Castiel explained.

“But they can be killed?” Dean asked, skeptically.

“An angel blade will kill anything that moves,” Lamechiel said.

Sam was looking at Dean anxiously. “If it bleeds you can kill it,” he said. “You taught me that.”

“Dad taught us that,” Dean corrected.

With soft determination, Sam said, “Dad might have taught you. But _you_ taught me.”

The brothers locked eyes for a moment but it was Dean who backed down first. It wasn’t an argument he felt like having in front of three angels.

“Okay, yeah,” he said, turning back to Castiel. “What do we know about this thing other than that? What is this demon angel's name to start with?”

Cas hesitated and then grumbled, “Belial.”

Sam inhaled sharply.

“What?” Dean asked.

“The second angel to fall,” Sam said, “The first to be swayed to Lucifer’s rebellion.”

Raeth smiled at Sam as if he was the angel in the room. Dean didn’t miss that, but he wasn’t distracted by it.

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, grimly and then quoted from the Dead Sea Scrolls. “ _You yourself made Belial for the pit, an angel of malevolence, his dominion is in darkness and his counsel is to condemn and convict. All the spirits of his lot -- the angels of destruction-- walk in accord with the rule of darkness, for it is their only desire_."

“What does that mean?” Dean demanded.

“It has always seemed that our Father made Belial purposefully,” Raeth said, as if it pained her, “and none of us have ever understood why. All of our names have a meaning and end in ‘of God’. Belial has always meant ‘lawless’ or ‘without a master’. He was one of the original 4 crown princes of Hell – Lucifer, Satan, Leviathan and Belial.”

“Wait, Satan and Lucifer are two different people?” Dean asked, and then looked annoyed with himself. “Angels, demons, whatever. They’re different?”

“Satan was destroyed, Lucifer and Leviathan were caged. But Belial has remained free, hidden but free,” Castiel explained.

“Until now,” Lamechiel said, daring to speak up again. “If he rejoins Lucifer and unleashes his army, the loss of life will be incalculable. Will you help us?”

Dean put his hands on the table and pushed back his chair. “You had me at ‘kill a demon’,” he said, “When do we start?”


	54. Watch Out For Him Cas

“So how long have you been banging the angel?” Dean asked.

They were in the driveway of the house that belonged to Lamechiel’s vessel. The hood of the Impala was up and Dean was leaned over the engine, hands greasy. The engine was running because Dean knew there was something wrong with her.

Sam shot a glare at him and Dean said, “Oh come on. Don’t give me the bitch face. It’s kind of obvious.”

“I am not…. _Banging_ her,” Sam said sourly.

“Oh sorry,” Dean went on, smirking a little, “How long have you two _been intimate_?”

He ducked his head back under the hood of the Impala to avoid the death ray in Sam’s eyes. At the moment Dean had two problems – the sluggish response he was getting from the Impala and the way his brother was still a little distant and shut down. One problem was pretty easy because Dean’s mechanical intuition were telling him what the Impala’s issue most likely was – a leak in the vacuum system. Sam’s issue was guilt and fear that Dean still didn’t trust him; and that was going to take a little more work to fix.

Dean took the can of starter fluid and sprayed a nice even line of it down the hose lines until he heard the Impala’s motor come off it idle. Just as he thought it was a leak in one of the hoses. Once he narrowed that down, it didn’t take long to find the guilty hose.

“Ah, Baby,” he said, “Why you gotta do this to me? Don’t I take good care of you?”

The hose wasn’t that old since he’d replaced the entire engine after the accident 4 years ago. But it was possible that it had been defective; or it had just given up considering the miles and speeds Dean asked from the Impala on a daily basis. But there was a clear split in it when Dean pressed on it and it wasn’t going to take long for it to become a tear, an open wound that would take his beloved Baby off the road.

He stood up and walked around to the open driver’s door and reached in to turn the key, killing the engine.

When he stood back up Sam was still on the other side of the car, glaring at him.

“What?” Dean asked, spreading his hands in a gesture of innocence. “How well do I know you? It’s your body language. You and the angel are pretty handsy all of a sudden. She sat down in your lap like she’d been there before. So, yeah. It’s just obvious; and I don’t blame you. She’s hot. I’d do her too if I thought she’d go for it. But I get the feeling she’d put me into a concrete wall permanently if I even looked at her the wrong way-“

“ _Stop_ … _talking_ ,” Sam said. His hands had balled into fists.

Dean did know his brother, and very well. There were two ways to break him out of a funk. One was to get him drunk. Drunk Sam was generally a really happy guy. Drunk Sam turned into a big, playful, huggy Great Dane puppy. He would also start talking, sometimes forgetting to be happy long enough to cry and get seriously maudlin. But they could usually work out whatever was eating at Sam when his defenses had been knocked out of the park by a hard hit of alcohol. The thing was, it took a considerable amount of alcohol to even put a dent in his brother’s gigantic frame. Beer usually had little to no effect and Sam knew his limits. He’d usually stop way before he was feeling even the slightest buzz. Also, at the moment, Dean didn’t have time for a long night at a bar trying to get Sammy drunk.

So Dean had defaulted to plan B – get Sammy mad enough to take a swing at him. The adrenaline rush was the same and the chance to beat Dean up was always cathartic for Sam – especially if it was actually himself that Sam wanted to lay into.

The flaws in that plan were that Sam was preternaturally strong and it hurt like hell to get punched by him. It also didn’t always work. Sometimes it just made Sam madder at Dean and he’d retreat farther behind the Great Wall of Silence.

Dean was kind of glad he’d managed to keep the Impala between them.

“So, you’re going to hit me now because I think your guardian angel is hot?” Dean asked softly. “Because I got news for you – every guy who looks at her thinks she’s hot. So you can either go around beating up a lot of guys or just relax and remember it’s _your_ lap she’s sitting in.”

For a single instance the ice-cold anger continued and then Dean watched it begin to thaw. Sam turned his head and looked, unfocused, into the distance, not quite willing to give up the fight just yet.

“Look, Sam,” Dean went on, coming back around the check the damaged hose, keeping his tone light. “With everything that’s going on, if you’ve got something – some _one_ \- to help you get through the night and keep that evil bastard out of your head, then I say good for you. But lying to each other has to stop. So from now on, I’m going to call you on your bullshit.”

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Who I may or may not be ….sleeping with isn’t really any of your business. Is it?”

As far as Dean was concerned everything about Sammy was his business. He’d been making sure the kid ate, slept, bathed and had something that looked like recreation since before Sam had turned a year old. But he could see how Sammy might not see it exactly the same way.

They looked at each for several long moments – Dean bent over the Impala’s engine, elbows resting on the metal; Sam standing with his feet and shoulders braced. But they were prevented from saying another word to each other when Raeth and Castiel appeared. Cas was almost on top of Dean. Raeth was right next to Sam.

“ _Dammit,_ Cas,” Dean said. He had stood up and spun around on instinct. His hand had automatically gone for the gun that wasn’t actually in his belt.

“What?” Cas asked, genuinely confused.

“Don’t sneak up on a hunter,” Dean advised.

Raeth in the meantime had taken a step closer to Sam, who reached for her hand and wrapped his around it.

“What’s wrong with the car?” Castiel asked.

“Busted hose,” Dean answered, “Or it will be soon. Does Lamechiel’s vessel have a ride I can borrow? I need to get to an auto parts store.”

“What’s so important about a hose?” Cas peered into the baffling complication that was the combustion engine, trying to see the problem.

“Car won’t run without it,” Dean answered. The Impala was a miracle of engineering as far as Dean was concerned. But the truth was the whole damned gleaming mass of metal, chrome and glass ran on air.

“Which one is it?”

Dean pointed without really looking. It was always a little painful to see Baby damaged.

“I do not see anything wrong with it.”

Sighing Dean shouldered him aside and said,

“Fuck, Cas, it’s right--. What the hell? It was right there.”

The offensive hose was now in pristine condition, no signs of wear or splits at all. It was even clean. Dean didn’t really let anyone but Bobby or Sam touch the Impala, and even then rarely. But Cas hadn’t really _touched_ it, not physically at least.

“You fixed the car?” He said, stating the obvious.

“Yes,” Cas answered, gruff as usual. “But if you’d like I can return it to its former condition and you can waste your time driving to a store and repairing it yourself.”

His snarky humor got a short but sincere bark of laughter burst out of Sam. Glancing at him, Dean got the first hint that maybe things were going to go back to normal; normal for them anyway.

“Naw,” he said, releasing the support on the hood and closing it with a gentle thump.

“So is that why you came out here?” Dean asked, “To play car mechanic?”

“No, “Raeth said, “We have news to share.”

Both brothers came alert, tensed like sleeping lions who had suddenly been alerted to potential prey.

“You found Belial?” Sam guessed.

“No, but we found another fallen angel,” she went on, “Valac. If we can trap him he’ll tell us where Belial is.”

“Why would he do that?” Dean demanded.

“It is part of his nature. Trapped in a triangle of certain symbols and words, he will be compelled to tell the truth and reveal secrets,” Castiel explained.

“Trapped in a triangle?” Sam repeated, instantly intrigued by a new thing to learn, a new hunting tool.

“Yes,” Raeth said, “The three of us are going after him. We wanted to offer you the chance to come along.”

Dean and Sam shared a long communicative look. They both knew what the blood of a demon could do to Sam, and how addictive he found it. Neither of them knew what the blood of demon enhanced with angel juice would do or whether Sam would be able to resist it.

But Dean knew that Sam needed to be trusted; and he would be going with three angels, one of whom was sworn to protect Sam.

And Sam needed to be trusted right now. He needed to know his brother trusted him.

So Dean shrugged and said, “Sounds like you got it covered. I’ll stay here and work on the car some more.”

Surprise flared in Sam’s eyes and it hurt Dean for a moment, how much Sam wanted to know that Dean trusted him.

“Yeah,” Dean said, trying to sound casual, as if the idea of Sam being exposed to any kind of angel-enhanced demon blood wasn’t even an issue. “Go ahead. Take notes.”

Relief and a sincere emotion that Dean recognized misted Sam’s eyes for a moment. It was devotion as deep and relentless as a storm gray ocean. Dean’s throat closed up and he had to clear it before saying, “Have fun.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, sounding equally choked. He glanced down at the battered canvas sneakers on his feet. “I need to change my shoes.”

He turned away and Raeth went with him back to the house. Cas lingered but then turned away also. Before he could get too much farther Dean said,

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Watch out for him. Okay?”

Cas held Dean’s eyes for a moment. Handing over Sam was a sacred trust for Dean, something he never did lightly. Cas knew that, so he considered it seriously before nodding and walking away.

(0)

 

 

 

 


	55. Limestone and Holy Fire

Sam had been in many strange places in his life. But the abandoned theme park Raethaniel took him to was certainly among the strangest.

The place was strewn with enormous stone blocks. There was a battered utilitarian yellow metal gate blocking the entrance of the single dirt road that Sam could detect. The road was pot holed and overgrown in places with weeds. There were two small ponds that were covered in a line green slime that was either toxic or some kind of beneficial algae. Sam didn’t want to get close enough to find out which.

But it was the stone that dominated.

The blocks were everywhere – most as tall as Sam’s shoulders, over Raeth’s head. Some were piled haphazardly. But there was a distinct group that was clearly an attempt to form the foundation of something enormous.

She hopped up onto the foundation and walked to the middle of it. Sam hesitated and then climbed up after her. She raised her hand over the stone floor. A stream of blue and yellow fire was pouring from her palm, carving a large triangle into the stone. The stone would flame for a moment and as the flame died out it left a blackened scar behind it.

Sam watched her carefully, making note of the dimensions and the sigils contained in it. But he was also struck with a little wonder at the whole thing. She caught him looking at her and lifted an eyebrow.

“Something wrong?”

Sam laughed a little and then said, “No. It’s just….,” then he paused and shrugged, as if nothing should surprise him anymore, “You can set stone on fire.”

Raeth stopped what she was doing and swept him from head to toe and back up in a way that made him sharply aware of her; enough to set the blood in his veins tingling. She ended by looking at him with her head slightly tilted, up through black-tipped lashes.

“I’ve no doubt you can do the same thing,” she said. The cadence of her voice was soft and seductive.

It took Sam an instant to realize that she was being metaphorical. It stunned him to silence because Castiel was so damned literal all the time and Sam had thought perhaps all angels were like that. His skin flushed hot when he understood the intent in her words and the hidden meaning. He felt the heat rise up into his neck and then into his face all the way to his hair.

Raeth chuckled softly and looked away to concentrate on the sigils on the outside of the triangle. It gave Sam time to get his composure back. His brother was right. Raeth was beautiful. She was, in fact, damned hot and he had still not recovered from the way they’d made love the night before. But she was also open and honest with him, truthful to a fault and Sam realized suddenly that was the most seductive thing about her.

“Raeth, where _are_ we?” Sam asked, finally giving up trying to figure it out and needing to change the subject.

“This is the Bedford, Indiana,” she answered. “Well technically, it’s Needmore, Indiana. But this called the Bedford Limestone Pyramid.”

Sam looked around, his view of the area enhanced by his elevated position.

“I see a lot of limestone. But I don’t see a pyramid,” he observed.

“I am given to believe that we’re standing on what remains of it; or possibly the only part of it that ever existed. The project was abandoned. I don’t know why. Castiel sent me here because of the isolation and the limestone.”

“Limestone has links to the paranormal,” Sam said, without thinking. He broke off quickly because neither Dean nor his father nor Bobby had ever cared about the possible science behind anything they did. Their mentality was always hunt it, find a way to kill it and then go get a beer. It wasn’t a bad mentality considering most of the things they hunted. But Sam had always been fascinated by the ‘why’, even if no one else in his life ever seemed to care.

So he was stunned to silence by the next thing Raeth said.

“Why do you think that is?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for words and still unsure that she really wanted to know. Maybe she was just being polite.

Then he remembered he was talking to an angel. She was not ‘polite’ and she was never disingenuous. As if she could indeed read his thoughts and without pausing in making the sigils, she said,

“Come on, Sam. I think I know you well enough to know that you’ve got some theories on why this happens – your own or at least what you’ve researched.”

“Umm, well…,” then he stopped and shook his head. “Aren’t you an angel?”

“Yes,” she nodded, moving to the other side of the triangle and continuing her work.

“So, don’t you know?”

Raeth looked up long enough to flash him a small smile.

“That doesn’t mean I’m all knowing,” she replied. “I was commanded to love humanity. That didn’t require an extensive understanding of their living environment.”

“I see,” Sam said, slowly.

“So why do you think limestone is linked to the paranormal?” Raeth prompted again.

“Well, umm… Electromagnetic fields are almost always associated with hauntings and limestone puts out a lot of EMF because of the way it decays and its half-life. Basically, it’s due to the dispersal of protons and neutrons and electrons as it deteriorates. “

He stopped because everyone else in his life would have already cut him off already. In his head he could hear Dean’s irritated _Sam_ and Bobby’s distracted nod that was more to indulge Sam than because Bobby actually cared. But Raeth only nodded thoughtfully so he went on, quickly,

“Well _we_ are energy. Life is energy. We are basically made out of water and bio-electricity. That energy has to go somewhere when we die. According to Einstein’s theory energy can’t be created or destroyed. So if you think of a magnet it can make sense. When you have an electrical field and a strong magnet then energy is drawn towards the magnet. The energy can’t be destroyed by the magnet. So it joins the existing pool of energy that flows everywhere. So, if you have a house or building that is made out of limestone or a site that has high deposits of limestone in the soil it is possible that much more energy is drawn to this area like a magnet. Also if the earth has its own electromagnetic field and it has to constantly balance that energy. If there is a greater need for energy in one spot then the residual energy surrounding this area will be pulled there.

“So … spirit energy or soul energy, or whatever you might want to call what we become when we die, would be drawn to limestone in an attempt to create balance.”

By the time Sam stopped talking Raeth was finished with the trap. She tilted her head and looked at him. The smile playing on her lips made him want to kiss her.

“I thought you studied law?” She asked.

“I did,” he acknowledged.

“You’d have been a good scientist too,” she said,” or teacher.”

Heat rose in his chest and spread upwards again. He wasn’t really used to praise. She held up her hands again and burned a perfect circle several feet out from the triangle. Then a small silver pitched appeared in her hands as if conjured. Sam had stopped questioning the things Raeth could do at this point. She could burn stone and fly. So things appearing out of thin air was now commonplace.

She handed it to him, saying, “It’s holy oil. Will you do the honors?”

As Sam poured a long thin line of it around the circle he asked, “Can this hurt you?”

“If I handle it wrong, yes,” she answered, “I draw most of my power from the element of fire; and I am as vulnerable to burning ring of holy oil as any angel.”

She had withdrawn from the circle and was standing off to the side, almost to the edge of the foundation. Sam finished coating the circle with oil and then asked,

“Can I take pictures of this trap? I’m pretty sure I can remember it but the Enochian sigils aren’t really familiar to me.”

“Of course,” she answered.

Sam took out his phone and snapped pictures from a few different angles and then joined her. He handed her the empty pitcher and it vanished from sight.

“So now what?” He asked.

“Now we wait for Castiel and Mecha to bring us Valac.” The grim set to her expression clued Sam in as to just how distasteful this was to her.

He’d always thought his family was complicated. It seemed like nothing now, compared to the family of angels. He stepped a little closer to her, offering comfort in his presence. His fingers lightly touched the back of her hand.

“And then?” He asked.

“We told you the plan. Castiel and Mecha will drop Valac into the trap and get out as quickly as they can. I’ll light the holy fire and then we’ll compel him to tell us where Belial is.”

He knew from her voice that she was still disturbed. Gently he said, “Tell me about Valac. Before the Fall I mean. Before he rebelled with Lucifer.”

Raeth seemed to inhale, though Sam knew she really didn’t need to breathe. It might have been reflexive.

“In the beginning, his name was Valachiel,” she began, “He was an angel of the Third Heaven though not in my garrison…..”

(0)

 


	56. Valachiel

**Then:**

Images, horrible images, beat at Raethaniel as she flew through the restless and storm cast skies of heaven. War had come to her once peaceful home, with all the rage and bloodshed and horror that could be associated with the word. Heaven was a maelstrom, caught in a civil war that seemed to have no end. In the distance they could see two battles being fought. One she had just left, having secured the objective of capturing one of Lucifer’s most valued allies. Even at this distance she could see angels tumbling out of the sky, aflame.

She _hurt_. She was burned and slashed. The pain of watching her brothers and sisters tearing each other apart was like dragon fire – that clung and burned through scale and flesh - searing her heart. As an angel she wanted to weep and would have done so if there had been time. But there was not. She was burdened with a captive – a winged bull, red and breathing smoke and ash from flared nostrils, writhing in the tight hold of her talons. Raethaniel stayed in the air by sheer, wretched determination.

Beside her flew a great ram with four golden horns- Lamechiel. His eyes were narrow and angry. His wings beat the air with a steady rhythm, though he was no less wounded than Raethaniel.

“I will _destroy_ you!” the bull, Valachiel, roared. “I will destroy all of you and then Lucifer’s army will march onto the Earth and destroy it.”

His head thrashed as he tried to drive the horn that was his angel blade into Raethaniel’s leg. Since she had her talons wrapped around his neck, it was a useless gesture.

Raeth snaked her long neck around to glare into the bull’s eyes. She snapped her fangs at him, letting her own angel blade gleam.

“Be silent,” she hissed. “Our instructions are to bring you in alive… but accidents have been known to happen.”

Lamechiel swooped in under Raeth and gave Valachiel a sharp kick in the head with his hind feet. It opened a wound on the bull’s forehead, just below his horns. It had been a dangerous move for Lamechiel. If Valachiel had chosen to lift his head, Lamechiel could have been hit with the angel blade. The bull howled in pain and Lamechiel snarled at Valachiel to be still.

Their landing was less than graceful. Raethaniel managed to drop the bull into a waiting net that was quickly tightened by two other angels from her garrison. The bull – the fallen angel Valachiel – bellowed and more smoke poured from him. But he was captured.

Exhausted Raeth and Lamechiel moved into the grand hall of the third Heaven to have their wounds tended and report to the archangel Gabriel. He was in the center of the room – a great elk with antlers that almost spanned the room, issuing orders and listening to the latest updates.

They approached cautiously. Gabriel had been the archangel in charge of the Third Heaven as long as Raethaniel could remember. He was adored, beloved by them. But he was an _arch_ angel and at the moment he was in his full power. The stag dwarfed both of them, towered over them, gleaming from head to tail, breathtakingly beautiful. Raethaniel and Lamechiel stopped at a respectable distance and bowed. When her wedge-shaped head touched the gleaming stone floor, Raeth felt a wave of exhaustion so overwhelming she closed her eyes.

She heard the sound of Gabriel’s hooves on the floor and tried to look up. A moment later she felt the touch of the stag’s head against her. Healing flooded her body. Relief was blessed. She looked up and into Gabriel’s soft, kind expression. Even under the current circumstances, Gabriel seemed to always have some mischief lurking in the back of his wide brown eyes. There was weariness there as well, to be sure. But Raeth thought she saw something else as well

“Feel better?” He asked.

“Yes,” Raeth answered. There were no names for their ranks. The angel had always called each other by name, no matter the hierarchy. But when she uttered his name there was gratitude and awe, “ _Gabriel._ ”

Beside her Lamechiel was likewise healed with a touch of the stag’s head. He staggered to his feet and then explained the capture of Valachiel in a short, concise way. They both were silent after that, waiting for Gabriel to speak.

“Valachiel was bent on the destruction of humanity and I saw how the two of you looked just now. I healed you both. Remember?” Gabriel said, “His capture could not have been that easy.”

Raethaniel and Lamechiel lowered their heads in humble response.

“Nothing that is happening out there is easy,” Raethaniel responded.

But Gabriel didn’t answer. In fact he turned away.

“Gabriel?” Lamechiel asked. “Where do you want us to go? Should we rejoin the garrison?”

A shake of the archangel’s head was his answer.

“No, the fighting is dying down. We’ve captured and caged Lucifer. That should do a great deal to bring the rest of the rebellion down.”

“Lucifer is caged?” Lamechiel said, quickly.

“Blessed Father,” Raeth whispered. Could it be so?

Raethaniel realized then what she had seen in Gabriel’s eyes. It was hope. She knew that the purpose of the cage their Father had built was to bring Lucifer into a state of humility and repentance. Redemption was very important to their Father. All the angels had hope that it would work.

At least all the angels who had not rebelled.

The rebellious angels were imprisoned in the Second Heaven.

Lamechiel was about to ask a question when Dalquiel, the Great Bear, came thundering into the hall and raced in their direction.

“Gabriel! Valachiel has escaped!”

The pronouncement made Raethaniel heartsick. They had risked so much in his capture. Amriel was dead. Harahiel was dead, along with a host of others she had barely known.

For nothing.

“What happened?” Gabriel sounded more sad than angry, resigned and frustrated.

“He broke free of the net outside the Gate of the Second Heaven, before he could be taken through and imprisoned. Nathanael has already mounted a search. He took Remiel’s garrison with him. But-“ Dalquiel broke off, grimly.

“But what, Dalquiel?” Gabriel asked, quietly.

“He’s already vanished into the dimensions. I’m afraid we may never be able to find him.”

The news was not good and Raeth turned to Gabriel beseechingly.

“Let us go try to find him,” she begged.

Gabriel shook his head slowly. “No, Raethaniel,” he said. “Go to the Gate of the Second Heaven and assist with the transfer of prisoners. Make certain no more escape.”

She nodded and turned away sadly. There was no thought of disobedience in her mind. But she also knew that she wouldn’t rest until Valachiel was captured and finally brought to justice.

(0)

**Now:**

Sam had listened to her story without comment. He’d kept moving as she spoke – clearing away brush that might catch from the holy fire, sweeping dust away from the triangle. But he hadn’t interrupted. Even when she was finished, he paused before speaking.

“So this is personal for you?”

“In a way. I was once charged with capturing him, and I did. _I_ didn’t lose him. But it still feels like a task unfinished and, though I take pleasure in it, I will see it through.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. He understood that sense of responsibility too well. He started to ask her more about Valachiel, what kind of resistance he could expect, when the sky suddenly darkened. Looking up Sam saw storm clouds gathering. He wondered if it was going to rain but Raeth moved her hand in an effortless wave and pulled an angel blade out of thin air.

“Take this,” she said, “You probably won’t need this but I want you to have it. It will be your only protection if he manages to escape again.”

The blade was strange in his hand, as it always was. But Sam gripped it and held it tight.

“What’s happening?” He asked.

Raeth looked up at the ominous sky.

“It’s Castiel,” she answered. “He’s coming and he has Valac with him.”

(0)

 


	57. The Hand of God

There was a streak of splintered lightning, a skeletal claw tearing apart the roiling clouds. Immediately after it was a roll of thunder, a deep, shredding sound, as if something was being torn to pieces. The rising wind lashed the trees and blew Sam’s hair back.

Something bright blue and flaming began to descend from the clouds. Raethaniel had drawn a picture of Castiel, the true Castiel, for Sam once - a man’s face and form but made entirely of flame. She had shaded it in blues and streaks of gold. He had an angel blade in one flaming hand and blasts of angel fire had been coming from the other. Sam had no doubt that the form coming to earth from the center of that storm was Castiel.

It had been difficult for Sam to imagine that this was the true form of the angel who often reminded him of Columbo. But then he remembered that Columbo had always been underestimated by everyone who knew him and that had been his strength.

Sam turned his head and closed his eyes tightly. The wind howled, rising to a shriek for a moment and then died down.

“Sam!” Raeth shouted, “It’s all right. You can look. It’s Castiel. He knows you are here!”

Sam cautiously opened his eyes just in time to see Castiel – in his suit and trench coat – landing in the center of the triangle with Lamechiel. They each had a stranglehold on a beefy middle-aged man with a thick beard and thinning brown hair. He was wearing a white t-shirt stretched tight over a sizable beer-belly, beat up jeans and heavy work boots.

It seemed to be exactly the kind of vessel an angel whose true form was a bull would chose.

Then angels dropped the man and he fell to his knees. When he tried to get up, Lamechiel struck him between the shoulder blades with his joined fists and Valac went down again.

As he collapsed, Cas and Mecha leapt over the oiled circle. Cas shouted,

“Now, Raeth!”

Even as they were in the air, Raeth lifted her hand and shot a stream of angel fire into the air. It burst into flame, licking at Castiel’s trench coat in a way that would have singed it had it been worn by a human.

Cas and Mecha touched down next to Raeth and Sam. Valac struggled to his feet, wiped blood from the corner of his mouth and glared at them, letting his gaze linger for a moment on Sam.

“Winchester,” he finally growled.

Sam blinked, startled, but too well trained to react otherwise.

Then Valac moved on and speared Raeth with a look of unbridled hate.

“I should have known where Lamechiel is, you’d be there, too,” he sneered.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” Raeth said, softly.

“Oh, no. I should have just trotted off to prison like a good little bad angel. Is that right?” Valac was clearly unrepentant, “Why? I fled to Hell and I’ve enjoyed it. No one in Hell expects me to worship these …..” He stopped and raked Sam with a furious gaze, and then spat out, “ _humans.”_

Raeth took a step forward but couldn’t approach the holy fire. Her hands had balled into fists. Sam put a hand on her arm, scared she would charge through the fire even if it destroyed her.

Castiel put an end to it. “Enough!” He snapped, “Valac! You know how this will end. So why not just make it easy on yourself. Tell us where Belial is.”

Valac just laughed. The angels exchanged a look and then it seemed that Cas sighed heavily. He gestured at the other two in a way that said _go on._

In one monotone, Lamechiel and Raeth began to chant.

“Manu Dei cogeris. Vox dei cogeris. Nutu dei cogeris. Manu Dei cogeris. Vox dei cogeris. Nutu dei cogeris…..”

They repeated it a few more times and finally drew an anguished bellow from Valac. He slammed his hands over his ears and shouted something back at them. Sam couldn’t understand it at all and there were few languages he didn’t at least recognize by sound. He thought it must be Enochian.

Raeth and Mecha raised their voices. “Manu Dei cogeris. Vox dei cogeris. Nutu dei cogeris….”

Raeth looked at Sam, eyebrows raised in silent question. He nodded quickly, indicating that he understood the Latin chant. With a single nod of her head, Raeth encouraged him to join them. Sam added his voice to theirs.

“Manu Dei cogeris. Vox dei cogeris. Nutu dei cogeris…”

Valac endured it for a another moment or two and then was driven howling to his knees.

“You _will_ tell me where Belial is,” Castiel said, in a low growl. “Where. Is. Belial?”

The gathered clouds overheard sparked with lightning. A roll of thunder accompanied Castiel’s demand. Valac’s howling turned to screams of frustration.

In a voice from the deepest pit of hell, the demon-angel roared, “ _Nevada! He is in Henderson, Nevada!”_

The chant grew louder and more insistent. Valac dropped forward onto all fours, panting in fury and defeat. Blood was coming from his eyes and nose

 _“Why?”_ Castiel insisted.

“They’re opening a gate in the desert, a devil’s gate, to bring forth the army.”

Sam was so horrified he almost stopped chanting. Castiel remained unmoved.

“Who is his vessel?”

Valac snarled but Castiel asked the question again.

“A man!” Valac gasped. “A lawyer, Richard Callahan.”

Castiel held up his hand and gestured for Raeth and Mecha to stop. They fell silent instantly.

Above them the darkening clouds turned black. Lightning played in them like sparks from a welding torch. Sam looked up in concern. They were moments from the first spatter of rain. If the promised deluge opened up over them, it would douse the holy fire.

“We’ll take him now, Castiel,” Mecha said, “His cell in the Second Heaven is still waiting.”

But Castiel shook his head slowly. “No,” he rasped, “I don’t think so.”

It seemed to Sam that what happened next would look like nothing so much as a particularly violent streak of lightning seeking the ground. But it was a whip lash of flame. It sped straight to Valac and speared through the top of his head, sizzled down his spine and coruscated over his body like St. Elmo’s fire.

Valac froze, petrified and paralyzed. His mouth caught in a soundless scream. Then he flashed into a brilliant ball of light before dissolving into a pile of smoking ash.

The entire thing took only seconds. When it was over, Castiel was standing rigid and unmoving as the surrounding stone. Raethaniel’s eyes were wide with stunned shock. Lamechiel was glaring at Castiel with his hands clenched in fists.

“Who ordered that?” Mecha demanded.

“No one,” Castiel answered. He sounded almost flat, resigned.

Obviously frustrated Mecha said, “Then why-“

“Because it was necessary!” Castiel turned and stared the other angel down. “Do you want him to escape again?”

“He wouldn’t have,” Lamechiel stated.

“You don’t know that,” Castiel said.

“We were exhausted before,” Mecha argued, “We were fighting constantly-“

“And you think it’s different there now?” Castiel cut him off sharply. “You think there aren’t angels in Heaven right this moment who wouldn’t try to help him escape? We are at _war_ , Lamechiel! Valac was a traitor and he needed to die. It isn’t fair and it isn’t pretty. But it _is_ necessary.”

Raeth touched her brother’s arm. “Mecha, he’s right. I don’t like it either, but he’s right.” she said, softly. Sam was surprised by how calm she sounded. “Besides, even fallen, Castiel is an angel of the Seventh Heaven. He doesn’t need permission to execute a prisoner.”

Lamechiel looked at her and observed, “You sound almost relieved. Were you afraid to take him back to Heaven?”

Raeth lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. Sam watched as she cast her pride away into the dust and stone.

“Yes, I was,” she said, admitted. She swallowed and looked away for a moment. When she looked back there were tears in her eyes. “I was; and I am not ashamed to admit that. There is too much as stake to let my need for revenge over something that happened eons ago override my good judgment. Righteous anger only works at times and this is not one of those times.”

Sam felt a surge of pride followed by a warm flush of affection. He stepped forward and wrapped her up in his arms, unable to bear her tears, so tight he would have crushed her ribs had she been human. Just as suddenly he let her go.

“We need to leave,” he said, just as another gust of wind kicked up and scattered the ashes of the departed Valac in all directions. “If that storm cloud opens up we’re going to get drenched; or at last I’m going to get drenched.”

Raeth had blinked away her tears and she nodded. She took Sam’s hand and took him back to Dean.

(0)

 

A/N: Manu Dei cogeris. Vox dei cogeris. Nutu dei cogeris – the hand of God compels you. The voice of God compels you. The will of God compels you.

 

 


	58. I Can Take Care of Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A just in case warning – deals with issues of sexuality and consent in a very mild way.

**Now:**

Dean was in the living room of Lamechiel’s safe house. He was sprawled on the couch, feet spread in front of him. He was drinking a beer and watching _Die Hard with a Vengeance_ on the big flat screen. Only a small part of his thoughts were on the movie. He’d seen it enough times to follow it without even needing the sound turned up. He was suffering from intense boredom now. The Impala was in perfect condition – ready to outrun whatever came after them. He’d made a sandwich but it was half-eaten on the end table beside him. He was on his third beer.

Dean knew that worrying about Sam was hardwired into his being at this point. He’d been doing it for decades. The first time Dean had just beaten the crap out of a guy – a regular guy, not a weird supernatural thing – was because the guy had referred to Sam as a pain in the ass little geek. Sam had been 8 at the time, just starting to be able to defend himself; and Sam had been mad at Dean afterwards, sulking in the backseat while Dean sulked in the front seat, nursing a black eye.

Their Dad had been furious and then frustrated. But neither of them would tell him what had happened and John finally gave up and they had driven for hours in silence.

It had been years later before Dean beat someone up just because of Sam again…..

**Then:**

“Shut the fuck up, Greg,” Dean growled.

Dean had lost track of how many times he’s said that in the last two hours. He was stuck in the majestic woods of the Cascade Mountains on the trail of a wendigo with Sam and another hunter – a complete dickwad named Greg Miller. The guy had been chasing the thing for weeks and lost it a dozen times. He’d call in a favor from Bobby and Bobby had strong armed the brothers into going out to help.

Bobby didn’t know that Greg was a jerk; or that Greg’d had a thing for both Sam and Dean for a long time. Dean didn’t know if the guy was bi or just gay; and really it didn’t matter even a little bit to Dean. Whatever your thing was – you go and be good with that. As long as there was consent then have at it. Greg’s pestering had long ago given Dean an appreciation for what women when through from guys who couldn’t take no for an answer.

“Come on, Dean. You like sex, right? You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it. See how the other half lives?”

“Nope, not even once.” Dean shifted his weight against the tree. He was supposed to have the first watch, Greg the second and then Sam.

But Greg had refused to get into his sleeping bag. Instead he had stayed up to badger Dean about something Dean was not even remotely interested in trying.

The first time Greg had done this, Dean had just turned 18. Dean hadn’t changed his mind about it in the years that had followed.(And even if he had, Greg was an odious little man.)

“It’s a great way to blow off steam,” Greg went on, “When was the last time you got any?”

“Last night,” Dean said, “Met a cute little blond gymnast at the diner. I’m good.”

Greg tipped his head in the direction of Sam’s sleeping bag. “You worried Sasquatch over there is going to hear us?”

“Shut the fuck up, Greg,” Dean growled again. He was the only one who got to call his oversized brother names.

Greg sneered, his face obnoxious in the moonlight. He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just wait and ask him.”

Dean snorted. “You try this with him and he’ll break all your fingers, then rip off your junk and feed it to you. Me? I’ll just watch, maybe help him make you chew.”

Even in the moonlight Dean could see Greg turn pale.

“You just want him for yourself,” Greg hissed.

The guy was starting to go seriously over the line but Dean kept his cool. “Yeah,” he laughed.

“Everyone knows it,” Greg continued scratching at it, wanting to make Dean bleed.

Dean just shrugged again. The brothers been mistaken for a couple innumerable times since they’d started hunting together. They even played to it from time to time if it worked to their advantage.

“What?” Dean asked, “The other hunters got a pool going? You got a big stake in it or something? ‘Cause if you do you’re going to lose big time.”

“You two might want to watch yourselves more carefully,” Greg said.

Dean straightened up, managing to look more dangerous as he did so. “Are you done with this now? Because it’s time to be done with this.”

Greg jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the huge mound that was Sam in his sleeping bag. "He burrows down right before he wakes up. Did you know that? He could be awake right now, listening.”

“Maybe,” Dean said. He knew Sam better than Greg or anyone else in the world ever would. He kept tabs on Sam’s breathing and always knew whether his brother was awake or not. Sam had been awake for a while now – no doubt roused by the irritation in Dean’s voice. “Yo, Sammy! You awake?

“Nope,” Sam’s voice said, muffled down low in the bag.

“You feel like getting it on with Greg here?”

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

Greg’s laugh sounded dirty. “Man, you don’t know what you’re missing,” he said.

“You’re gross,” Sam said. The sleeping bag moved as Sam turned over, “and short. So I’m probably not missing much. Doubt I’d feel it.”

Greg was a hunter and he moved pretty fast. But not faster than Dean Winchester. As he lunged for Sam with a loud curse, Dean snaked out a hand and grabbed Greg’s ankle, yanked backward and knocked him onto his back.

Dean was standing and slamming a hammer fist into Greg’s face, splitting the skin on his jaw so that Dean’s fist came back bloody. Greg responded by thundering a booted foot into Dean’s knee. It shoved Dean off balance enough to give Greg time to jump to his feet.

But a moment later they were almost in the dirt again, fist flying. Dean grabbed Greg’s jacket and hauled him around until he hit a tree. Greg went down but came back up, throwing a handful of dirt and pine needles into Dean’s face.

All the while Sam was struggling to get out of the vastness of his sleeping bag. He finally kicked it free, screaming at Dean. He gained his feet and ran to them, hunched over. He came up again between them, risking getting hit, but he got a hold of clothing – Dean’s in his right hand, Greg’s in his left – and shoved them apart.

“Dean! _Dean!_ ” He shouted.

Greg struggled and Sam lifted him up off his feet and turned to glare into his eyes.

“Shut. _Up_ ,” Sam said.

The ice-cold way Sam spoke went a lot farther than Dean’s supposed indifference. Greg withered a little. So Sam set him back on his feet and gave him a little shove.

“Get in your bag and _stay_ there,” he ordered.

“I’ve got the next watch,” he protested.

“ _I’ll_ take the next watch,” Sam snarled. “You two idiots have scared off everything for fifty miles anyway. Like my brother said, it’s time for you to be done with this.”

Greg stalked off, muttering under his breath. Sam gave Dean a similar shove and then let go of him.

“What the hell was what?” He demanded.

“He was going for you.” Dean knew it sounded lame.

Sam sighed heavily in deep annoyance. “I’m 23. I’m 6 feet five. I’m not worried about some idiot going for me. I can take care of myself. Didn’t you and Dad teach me that?”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, gruffly.

The brothers stood in the moonlight, glaring at each other, fists clenched.

“I can take care of myself,” Sam repeated.

“I know, bro,” Dean answered……

(0)

**Now:**

And Dean still knew that Sam could take care of himself. His brother had been knocked down hard. But he was back on his feet, standing again and when they got through the other side of this nightmare, Sam would be stronger for it. That was the Winchester Way.

Angels flashing into existence right before his eyes was now so common place that when the 3 of them – along with Sam – appeared in the living room, Dean didn’t even flinch. Yes, he had a brief, instinctual tensing of muscles, because it could have been a demon or some other threat. But mostly Dean just sat there, lifting his beer bottle in greeting.

“How’d it go?” He asked.

“It went well,” Castiel answered.

But Mecha made a low sound in his throat and walked off to the kitchen. Dean gave Sam a look that said _what happened_ and Sam replied with a slight movement of his head and a direct look that said _later._ Dean shrugged and agreed to wait.

“The Impala running good?” Sam asked.

“She couldn’t be better. Why?”

“Up for a road trip to Henderson, Nevada?”

“Isn’t that right outside of Las Vegas?” Dean asked, rising. “Sure. When do we start?”


	59. You're What Now?

Sam was in a large, paneled room with leather chairs and book shelves that went to the ceiling. Iron ladders crawled up the shelves to allow access to all the books. It was a heavy masculine room, filled with potential knowledge and he liked it there. He wanted to stay there. But, at the back of the room huge double doors were open, revealing a dark emptiness that called to him.

It scared him but Sam wasn’t one to run from things that were frightening. He approached cautiously. The light from the room behind him revealed the first few wide descending stairs.

He’d break his neck trying to walk down those in the dark.

He had barely completed the thought when the dark stone on either side of the stairs began to sparkle with tiny diamond bright lights.

He heard Raethaniel’s voice in his head. _Come down, Sam. It’s perfectly safe._

“Raeth?” He said, out loud.

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

“ _Yes.”_

Sam started to ask if he was safe but then shrugged it off. The stairs beckoned. He walked down slowly. When he reached the bottom another wide set of double doors opened into a midnight black chamber. Light slowly rose like the night giving away to the dawn. But Sam noticed it never reached the ceiling. High above him the light faded once more to twilight and then to darkness.

In the center of the room was a huge, sculpted dragon head that seemed to emerge from the black stone behind it.

Sam swallowed, amazed that Raeth would create this for him, so that he could see her; for he had no doubt that this was Raethaniel, his guardian angel. The dragon was gold blending into pure white, iridescent fire, as if her scales were made of jewels. He stood gazing at the elegant, wedge-shaped head reverently.

Then eyelids slowly opened and eyes of gold and flame pinned him where he stood.

“Raeth,” he breathed.

“ _Yes,”_ she answered. But she didn’t move. Her voice continued to be in his head.

“Where am I?” Sam asked.

“ _In the Impala, asleep, in the backseat. You don’t look very comfortable but you just drive 8 straight hours and you are tired_.”

“Then what is this?” He asked, gesturing.

“ _It is a safe place. You can rest here, dream, with no fear that…. **Anyone** will disturb you.”_

“Anyone meaning-“

“ _Do not speak a name, Sam. Angel names have power. I am keeping you as safe as I can but if you subconsciously think of one, and one more powerful than I am, this protection is useless.”_

“Okay,” Sam said, instantly. He wanted to ask her for more detail but he understood the danger. “So, what do I get to do here?”

“ _Go back upstairs and walk through whatever dreams you want. I have you anchored.”_

Sam considered that. “Can’t I just stay here with you?”

She seemed startled. Her enormous head lifted slightly and he heard something that sounded like a cascade of diamonds.

“ _Is that what you want_?”

“Yes, if it’s all right. Can you get me something to read?”

A wall full of books appeared beside him. Sam went to it and choose a leather bound copy of _Once and Future King_. Looking around he didn’t see anywhere to sit, so he walked up to Raeth and stood there for a moment.

Even with her head resting on the hard stone it towered over him. Her huge eyes followed him closely. When he sat down and put his back against her cheek she seemed to sigh a little. Her eye drifted closed again.

Content and feeling safe, Sam opened the book and began to read.

(0)

It was weird having Castiel riding shotgun. But Sam had crawled into the backseat after his 8 hour shift at the wheel had ended and fallen asleep. He was currently curled up in a fetal position, on his side, his knees jammed up against the front seat. His head was pillowed in Raethaniel’s lap. Sam hadn’t been able to comfortably stretch out in the Impala since he’d been 15 years old. But he’d learned how to sleep in the most unlikely – and uncomfortable looking - positions.

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror to check on Sam but he couldn’t see him at all. All he could see was Raeth. She was sitting up, but resting her had against the window, eyes closed. Beyond the window the night rushed by in a blur of occasional lights. They had the highway virtually to themselves but for the occasional 18-wheeler.

“Is she asleep?” Dean asked.

“Not exactly,” Castiel answered. “Angels don’t sleep, per se.”

Dean waited for a further explanation but when none seemed to be forthcoming he said, “Per se?” as if it was the strangest thing he’d heard the angel say (which of course it wasn’t.)

Clueless as always Cas explained, “Yes, it’s not actually sleep, though we can lose consciousness if sufficiently exhausted. She’s protecting Sam.”

“Protecting Sam?” Dean asked, sharply. He shot a look at Cas that demanded an answer.

“From having his dreams invaded by….. someone he would rather not have to see again.”

Dean often played stupid but he understood immediately what Castiel meant. He grunted in approval.

“And,” Castiel went on, “she’s ‘resting’, listening in on the angels.”

“Angel radio?”

“For lack of a better way to describe it, yes.”

Dean grunted and asked, tentatively, “If they know about this Hell Gate will they help us?”

“Some may try. Some may even succeed. It depends on whether or not they are Earthbound or trying to escape heaven.”

“Can they escape?” Dean fought back a yawn. It probably hadn’t been a good idea to stay awake when Sam was driving.

“The Gates of Heaven are all sealed. Anyone wishing to leave will need inside help.” He paused and looked at Dean pointedly. “If you need to sleep I can drive. If you are going to insist on driving all the way to Henderson when we could have just taken you there instantly, then you should at least take advantage of having two angels in the car who can drive.”

Dean shook his head vehemently. “Oh no, no zapping. Everything we might need is in this car and where we go, she goes.”

“There is nothing in this car that can protect you from a demon-angel,” Cas said, so matter-of-factly that he might have been discussing the weather. “Well, except for your anti-possession charms, and those will only prevent you from being possessed by him. There’s me and Raethaniel of course. Two angels are about all the protection you’re going to have and we didn’t need the car to get us to Nevada. Flying is much more expedient.”

“I already said no zapping, Cas,” Dean said, sounding growly but rubbing the back of his neck as if it ached. He should have taken the day shift at the wheel.

“Oh all right, there isn’t any need to get snarly,” Castiel replied. “But if we are driving and there are four of us in the car, you might want to think about taking advantage of it.”

Eyes stubbornly on the road ahead, Dean said, “Only other person who gets to drive the car is Sammy.”

Castiel politely considered that for a moment and then countered with, “Well technically Raethaniel and I are not ‘persons’. As I just pointed out we don’t need sleep. There is no need for you or Sam to drive yourselves to exhaustion.”

“Do you even know how to drive?” Dean demanded.

He heard the almost imperceptible sound of Sam’s breathing as it changed, signaling that he was rising into a lighter sleep. Dean didn’t doubt that Sam was responding to the tone of his voice as it rose in agitation. He gripped the wheel tighter and took a deep breath.

“I have been watching and the fundamentals appear to be rather simple,” Castiel answered, “So, while I would not wish to have the wheel in any kind of high speed chase – in which case I am sure you would be better equipped to handle the driving – under normal highway conditions it seems fairly easy to keep the car in one lane while unnecessarily exceeding the speed limit.”

Dean glanced at the speedometer, which was currently at 85. He shifted around in the seat in annoyance but didn’t slow down.

An hour later the lights streaming towards him were getting more and more blurry. Castiel brought up the subject again.

“If you do lose control of the car, Raethaniel and I will be able to repair the damage of course. It becomes trickier if one of you dies but we might be able to manage bringing you back to life.”

Dean felt the surge of impatience that always meant he was passed his limit and needed a time out.

“Fine,” he growled.

He slowed the Impala and pulled off onto the shoulder of the interstate. The change in the rhythm of the car made Sam stir and by the time they had come to a stop, he was awake; still drowsy and unwilling to get up, but awake.

“Dean?” He asked, voice muzzy with sleep and annoyance.

“Go back to sleep. Just switching drivers.”

“I’m still too tired to drive, man,” Sam protested even as he started flexing muscles that were still and testing his feet to see if they had any circulation. “Maybe we should just pull off at the next rest stop.”

“Not you,” Dean said, getting out of the car. “I’m letting Cas drive.”

Castiel followed his example and they walked around the front of the car to change places. In the backseat, Sam sat straight up, ignoring stiff muscles and almost hitting his head on the roof.

“You’re what now?” He asked, certain that he’d heard wrong. “Letting who drive? For a minute I thought you said Cas.”

“That’s right,” Dean said, “Go back to sleep, bro.”

Sam continued to sit up, staring at Cas and he stayed that way as Dean rattled off detailed and panicked-sounding instructions for pulling out onto the highway. The instructions didn’t stop even after Cas had settled the Impala into an even 65 mph in the right lane.

Raeth finally dragged Sam back down and stroked his forehead until he surrendered and fell asleep again.

Dean continued to fill Castiel in on details about the Impala and unnecessary information until Cas interrupted him.

“Dean!”

“What?” Dean asked, turning his head to look at the angel.

Cas reached over and put two fingers in the middle of Dean’s forehead. Dean slumped backwards, instantly asleep.

“Thank you, brother,” Raeth said.

“Don’t mention it,” Castiel answered.

(0)

 

 

 


	60. Welcome to Soccer Heaven

Sam swung his legs out of the backseat and gripped the top of the door to haul his aching body out of the Impala. He didn’t even try to suppress a groan. He’d passed out hours ago and except for that one moment of consciousness in which he’d come to grips with Dean letting Cas drive, he hadn’t moved. He’d been curled up in a miserable position for far too long. He lifted his arms in the air, clasped hands and stretched, bending from side to side to loosen stiff muscles. His left leg was numb below the knee and he had no feeling in his right foot either.

It was 7:15 in the morning in Henderson, Nevada and it was already blisteringly hot. Sam’s t-shirt was clinging to him, a deep dark, wet V stained the front and back of it. His hair was sweat-streaked and disheveled. He rubbed a hand over his bristly jaw and winced. He wasn’t hung over but damned if he didn’t look like he was.

Castiel had pulled into a minimart with a gas station and Sam’s stomach rumbled at the thought of food. His mouth felt like the surrounding desert and he wanted about a gallon of water, stat.

Getting out of the front seat, Dean didn’t look much better – rumpled, sweaty and bedraggled. But he didn’t seem too worried about his appearance either. He was glaring over the roof of the Impala at Castiel as the angel exited the driver’s side. Sam had seen other men hastily back down when Dean got that look in his eyes. But the angel just looked back – utterly immaculate in his suit and trench coat, without a hair out of place - and asked,

“What?”

“Just how much did you unnecessarily exceed the speed limit?” Dean demanded. He stalked to the rear of the car and flipped open the gas cap. “And why is this the first time we’ve had to stop for gas since like 600 miles ago? On a good day I get about 300 miles out of this car before we have to stop and refuel.”

That caught Sam’s attention. Dean was right. They’d been forced a long time ago to dump the Impala’s original engine. It had been built to run on leaded gas. Even before that, it had never been known for its fuel economy. Once Dean had dropped the V12 into it, they had abandoned any thought of fuel efficiency.

“What makes you think this is the first time we’ve stopped?” Castiel asked and to Sam – who had spent a lot of his life questioning people and learning to read their answers very carefully – it sounded evasive. It was never a good sign when people answered a question with another question.

Evidently it sounded evasive to Dean too, because he gave Castiel a sour, irritated look. He stopped asking questions though, knowing there was nothing he could possibly threaten to do to the angel that would make him say more.

Raethaniel had gotten out of the other side of the car but she moved around to join Sam. Raeth touched him gently on the elbow and suddenly Sam didn’t feel as if he was on the wrong side of a bar brawl.

He blinked in surprise, looking away from Cas and Dean. He was still hungry and desperately thirsty but he could walk without falling down.

“Thanks,” he said, as much wonder as gratitude in his voice.

“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling gently.

“Sam!” Dean said, drawing his attention.

He was pumping gas into the Impala and tossed the credit card he’d used to Sam. Sam caught it easily.

“ATM inside,” Dean said.

Sam nodded, understanding that Dean meant _run out the cash advance as high as you can and then ditch the card._ He went inside the minimart, where the air conditioning felt heaven-sent, and went to the Men’s’ room. Immediate needs taken care of, he took advantage of the hot water, soap and paper towels to wash up. He needed a shower but at least he felt slightly human again.

He went back out into the store and grabbed a hand basket. Raethaniel was waiting for him inside. She wandered around the store casually looking at things while Dean filled the basket with water bottles and bananas, apples, pastries and muffins. He got Dean a breakfast sandwich and a large coffee. It didn’t escape his awareness that the young man who was working the register had started watching Raeth the moment she walked in and hadn’t stopped. Sam could have looted the place and the guy wouldn’t have noticed.

It was different at least. Usually young guys at convenience store counters couldn’t stop looking out the window at the Impala.

Sam put the loaded basket on the counter and walked over to the aisle with tourist stuff. There was a small selection of t-shirts. Sam picked a pink one that said ‘Welcome to Soccer Heaven’ and ‘Henderson, NV’ under it. It was the only one that looked like it wouldn’t be too big for her.

“Raeth!” He called.

She came around the corner at the end of the aisle and walked to him. “What?”

“You’re going to attract too much attention wearing a turtle neck sweater in 100 degree heat. Also,” he took her elbow and steered her to a revolving rack of sandals, “The boots have to go too. Pick a pair that will fit you.”

“These?” She asked, uncertainly, pointing to a basic pair of leather thongs.

“Yeah, those are fine,” he said, pulling the tag off. “There’s a ladies’ room over there. Go change?”

Raeth held up the shirt and read it. “What is soccer? I have never heard of this type of heaven.”

“It’s a game and it’s just an expression,” Sam explained.

“Will you teach me to play?”

In spite of himself, Sam huffed out a laugh. He hadn’t played soccer if well over a decade. “Yeah, if we ever find time, you know, after we stop the world from ending and stuff. Go change.”

Still looking uncertain Raeth nodded and walked away.

Sam went to the counter, added the tag for the sandals to the stuff he’d already gathered and told the guy to add the cost of the t-shirt.

Trying to appear nonchalant the guy said, “Your girlfriend is hot.”

Sam smiled wryly, thinking that his ‘girlfriend’ was actually a dragon.

“Yeah, that’s why I bought her a t-shirt,” he said, pretending to misunderstand.

“No, man, I meant-“

“I know what you meant,” Sam interrupted and this time he let it sound soft and dangerous.

The guy looked startled and then ducked his head, rang up the goods and didn’t say another word.

Sam paid the bill with another credit card and then went to the ATM. By the time he had finished bending the electronic world of credit to his will he had about $2000 in cash.

Raeth came out of the ladies room, looking no less hot in the t-shirt and sandals than she had looked in the turtle neck. Dean came in and actually exhaled in relief when he felt the a/c. It followed their typical pattern. Dean would crawl all over the Impala making sure his baby was all right before he took care of any of his own needs.

Sam jerked a thumb towards the restrooms.

“There’s hot water, soap and towels,” he said.

Dean grunted in approval. They were longtime veterans of minimarts and rest stops. The worst once had those irritating hot air blowers and limited water. The best ones had hot water that would stay on until it was shut off by hand, soap and paper towels.

Sam and Raeth walked back out into the heat. Sam handed her the credit card.

“Can you, umm-“

He never got a chance to finish. There was a slight flash of fire in her hand and the card was gone.

“Thanks,” he said.

It appeared that Dean must have had the same conversation with Castiel. The angel had taken off his trench coat, his suit jacket and tie and was rolling up his shirt sleeves.

Sam opened the passenger door and sat down, got a bottle of water out of the bag and downed it without stopping. By the time he had finished one of the bananas and started on an apple, Dean had come back out of the store.

“So?” He said, catching the breakfast sandwich Sam tossed to him. “What now?”

“We find Lamechiel and see if he’s any closer to finding the location of the Hell Gate or the whereabouts of Belial,” Castiel said.

Dean looked ready to dive right into that, nodding his head and bolting the sandwich without tasting it. He reached for the coffee Sam held out.

“Okay,” Dean said.

“Not so fast,” Sam said, “We need a base of operations first – one with a shower and air conditioning.”

“Sounds like the first cheap motel we pass,” Dean commented.

They waited until the brothers had eaten, hydrated and caffeinated. Then they climbed back into the car, with the angels in the back seat, Sam in shotgun and Dean driving.

Dean gunned the engine and they left the gas station with a squeal of tires and a spray of gravel.

 


	61. Just Enjoy It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is because fan fiction exists to let the characters do things they aren’t shown doing in the series – like laughing without being drunk, and having fun.

Nothing close to Las Vegas was cheap but Sam had become pretty adept at online searches. He found them a room with 2 queen bed at the Outpost Hotel. It had free parking, free wifi, a pool and a casino within walking distance. It was $25 a night, which was a bargain as far as the Winchesters were concerned. Sam booked it online as they drove. They got a room around the back with a parking space right outside the door. The room was clean if not super large, and better appointed than most of their accommodations.

They carried their duffle bags into the room, tossed them on the beds and then changed into swim trunks and hit the pool. Sam felt the scratchy concrete under his bare feet just before he leapt into the air – rejoicing in that state of transition in which he seemed to hang suspended – hands not yet in the water, but feet no longer touching the ground.

The relief from the heat as the water closed over his head was so great that Sam stayed down until his lungs were screaming for air. The water was like a slow, clean caress down the length of his body. Swimming was another one of those skills that he’d learned as survival, not as joy. So he could stay down a considerable amount of time. When he couldn’t stay down another second he shot for the surface, broke up into the simmering air and sucked it in gratefully before tipping over on his back to float with his eyes closed. He put his head back as far as he could to get his hair to lay back and then sighed. Water was something Sam understood. It was beautiful and it was dangerous so he loved and respected it. Only in the water could he feel as if he wasn’t taking up more than his fair share of space.

Seconds later he heard Dean come back up for air. The odds of his brother drowning in a motel pool in broad daylight with Sam swimming just feet away… well, those were astronomical. But he didn’t truly relax until he heard the sound of Dean sucking air again. He floated for a while, trying to imagine that everything was fine and the fate of the world wasn’t in his hands when water splashed him in the face and brought him up sputtering.

“Dean!” He complained.

“Wasn’t me,” his brother said.

Sam tossed his head to clear the hair out of his eyes and opened them to find Raeth hunkered down beside the pool, water still dripping from her fingers.

“Oh is that how it is?” Sam asked, and used the length of his arm to splash water up on the deck, cascading down over her.

She held up her hands to block it but laughed.

“Feeling better?” She asked.

Raeth was luminous with the afternoon sun behind her, framing her like a halo, glinting highlights of gold and white from her thick hair. She was smiling at him in a way that held him enthralled for a moment. She tipped her head and his attention was caught by the place where the tender lobe of her ear met the graceful column of her neck. He’d placed kisses there before that had caused soft whimpers of surrender.

Disregarding the fact that his brother was still floating only a few feet away Sam gave her a sultry smile and said, “It’s be better if you were in here with me.”

“In the water?” She asked, smile fading and eyes going wide.

“Yeah, why not?” Sam asked. He ducked under the water to her, kicked hard and swam the distance to the edge of the pool, coming up in front of her and resting his arms on the cement.

“It’s water,” she said, as if that was explanation enough. When he continued to look at her with raised eyebrows, water dripping down his face, tracing the lines of his cheekbones and jaw, Raeth added, “I’m a dragon. Fire?”

“Your vessel is human,” Sam pointed out. “You didn’t melt in the shower the other night. Come in with me.”

Raeth looked down, away from his eyes, but for a moment all she could do was watch the water glistening on his shoulders and across the expanse of his chest. She stood up and in one blink of an eye her jeans and t-shirt vanished. She was now wearing a tight one piece. It seemed to be made of shimmering scales – gold fading slowly until it was white at the bottom. Sam was sharply reminded of his dream from the night before – the dragon of gold and ivory that had protected him.

“Is this all right?” Raeth asked.

Sam wanted to think she was flirting, asking the question to get him to look at her. But she was simply not that disingenuous. It was a serious question asked in an uncertain manner.

“Yeah,” Sam blurted, “It’s perfect. But, honey, you can’t do stuff like out in the open. It will raise suspicion.”

Raeth sat down on the edge of the pool and tentatively dipped her legs in the water. She hissed a little, holding her frame stiff, as if she was ready to jump back if she didn’t like it.

“No one saw,” she said, off-handedly.

Sam wasn’t sure how she knew that but since she sounded sure he didn’t say anything else. He was too mesmerized at this point to care anyway. He was peripherally aware that Dean had climbed out of the pool just to dive back in with an almost noiseless splash.

Sam ducked under the wake of his brother’s dive and came up with his head between Raeth’s knees, facing the water. He reached up and back until his hands were on her hips, his feet firmly on the concrete floor of the pool. He urged her forward until she slipped off the concrete onto his shoulders. She laughed and clutched at his head, trying not to pull his hair.

“What are you—Oh wait, now—Sam!”

But it was too late. He pushed off the floor of the pool and tipped forward, dumping her into the water.

Then they were chasing each other around as if they were dancing underwater, weightless and agile, graceful and free. Raeth swam effortlessly, as if she could breathe water and Sam swam after her as if she was an elusive mermaid he had to capture. They stopped in front of each other, treading water. Raeth looked exactly like the angel she was – long blond hair free floating behind her, the sunlight honeycombed by the water all around her.

She was gazing back at him in wonder. Her eyes betrayed her longing for him. In spite of the cool water, a hot shiver went down Sam’s spine.

Once again desperate for air, Sam shot to the surface. Raeth followed him.

When he broke into the open air, he discovered that Castiel had wandered out to stand on the edge of the pool to regard them with puzzled interest. He was still wearing his suit pants and white dress shirt.

“You going to join us too?” Dean asked.

“I was not considering it,” Castiel answered, frowning in disapproval, “I was wondering if there was any chance the three of you remembered that we came here to stop the opening of another portal to Hell, not—“ He broke off and waved a hand at the water, “frolic in a pool.”

Sam and Raeth exchanged a guilty glance, treading water side by side. Dean shook his head in regret and said,

“Yeah, you’re right.”

He swam over to the edge where Castiel was standing and lifted his hand. “Help me out, would you?”

Castiel bent over and clasped Dean’s hand. But before he could pull back, Dean braced a foot against the wall of the pool and pushed away hard, dragging Castiel forward. The angel fell into the pool with a gigantic splash. Dean turned like a water spirit and swam away fast. Castiel came up, tossing his head and snapping Dean’s name as if it would somehow grant him vengeance for the prank.

Dean was already across the pool, grinning like a fool. Raeth looked stunned for a moment and then broke into laughter like wind chimes. Sam’s laughter rang in the heated desert air. Castiel glared at them for a moment and then shook his head in defeat. A moment later his suit had vanished – exchanged for a suitable pair of swim trunks. He put his hand in the air and a white volley ball appeared.

He tossed it to Dean who swatted it back in Sam’s direction and then Sam hit it back to Castiel.

“Is this soccer?” Raeth asked, trying not to duck as the ball whistled passed her head in Dean’s direction.

“No,” Sam laughed, “This is … I’m not sure what this is. So just enjoy it. Okay?”

For the next hour, in the hot desert sun, in a small pool at a cheap hotel, the Winchesters were reminded that even though, for them, the world was a dangerous place, every once in a while they got a chance to be happy. So when they saw a chance to be happy they had to seize it, fight for it, so that later, when the world went all to hell again, they would have no regrets.


	62. Angel Blade

After their swim, the men showered, ordered pizza, ate and then stretched out on actual beds to get a few hours’ sleep. When dusk settled and brought with it a respite from the desert sun, Dean took $500 and walked across the street to the casino, dragging Castiel along with him. Raeth had already left to find Lamechiel. So Sam found himself alone in the motel room.

He spent some time on the internet but couldn’t find anything useful about the man who was supposedly Belial’s vessel – Richard Callahan - or Gates to Hell, so he decided to do some laundry. When that was done he inspected the weapons he carried into every hotel room – his .45, a collection of knives, including his Swiss Army knife and, now, the angel blade Raeth had given him. He cleaned the .45, polished and sharpened the knives, made sure the Swiss Army knife was in working condition and then found himself staring at the angel blade.

There didn’t seem to be anything the blade needed. It gleamed at all times, cleaned itself, was always sharp and deadly. He sat down in the generic chair by the motel table and held the weapon up so that the light glinted from it.

The naked blade hid nothing about its purpose; and it feared nothing. It could kill angels as easily as demons. It was exquisitely balanced and fit his hand as if it had been made for him.

But it was not a typical weapon and Sam knew it. Dean had taught him how to knife-fight when he’d been 6 years-old. Sam had never been sure that their Dad knew Dean was doing it. But by the end of that summer, Sam was confident he could hold his own. It was street fighting, no rules, down and dirty; because basically what Dean taught Sam was to distract his opponent with the gleaming piece of steel; then kick the guy’s balls to Kingdom come as soon as he got the chance and run like hell.

So no real rules in knife fighting; but Sam was good at it. Over time he had learned to do more than distract. Knives could wound and that meant pain and pain was a great incentive to ending a fight. So were a few missing body parts and knives were good for that too. A knife fight, he had discovered, was not a series of slash and miss and stab and miss that went on for several city blocks, like in the movies. A knife fight was usually over pretty quick.

Sam was now completely competent with anything that could be called a knife – a machete, a butcher’s knife, a pen knife, sword, fencing foils (having joined a fencing team the one time he’d stayed in high school for an entire year), literally anything with a blade attached.

But this weapon – though he had killed once with it already – still eluded him. It was too short to be a sword and too long to be a knife. He hadn’t a clue how to attack with it, or to defend. The only thing he had ever done with it was deliver a fatal stab wound.

He rolled it through his fingers, twisted his wrist to bring it back into his palm, held it up to stare at it a little longer, as if staring would make the blade give up its secrets.

A flutter of wings snapping in the air interrupted him. It made his pulse beat a little faster as he lifted his eyes expectantly.

It was Raeth.

He stood up, holding the angel blade down against his leg.

“What happened?” He asked. “Have the angels found any sign of Belial or the Hell Gate?”

Raeth somehow managed to look flawless even when her lovely, clever eyes were haunted. A heated flush rose up in her cheeks as she swept him with a gaze, starting at his feet and ending when her eyes met his.

It was ridiculous – and Sam knew that it was – to think of her as vulnerable. But the vessel she inhabited was all feminine softness and Sam couldn’t help but respond to it. There was yearning in the look she gave him, like a caress over his jaw and temple and cheekbones.

But she shook her head and turned away sadly and Sam’s heart clenched in frustration. “No. We think he may have been warned of our coming.”

“Could Valac have lied to us?” Sam wondered.

“Not under that spell while in that triangle,” she said, certainly. “Belial is here, whether in his vessel or not. We just have to flush him out.”

“No sign of the lawyer?”

“Mecha is searching right now.” Raethaniel took a deep breath and appeared to set aside whatever was troubling her. “Is there something wrong with the angel blade?”

“What?” Sam asked, for he had momentarily forgotten that he was even holding the weapon. “Oh. No. I was just doing an inventory and this ….” Sam paused then gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. “This… I have no idea what to do with this.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“It’s not a weapon I know how to use in any kind of fight,” Sam clarified. “I’ve used it as a saw and to defend you by stabbing an angel in the back. But…..” His voice trailed off and he shrugged. Then he asked, “Is there anything this won’t kill?”

Raeth appeared to give that considerable thought before replying, “Well hypothetically it wouldn’t be able to kill my Father. Other than that, no I don’t think there is anything that an angel blade couldn’t kill.”

Sam lifted it again, holding it sideways at eye level. The look on his face became hard and shrewd. “Would it kill Lucifer?”

“Sam,” Raeth said, cautiously. The single syllable of his name sounded like a statement in itself, an acknowledgement of who and what he was.

“Would it kill Lucifer?” He asked again, firmly.

“Yes,” she answered, “But-“

“I know,” he cut her off, “I remember what you said, the tiger and the house cat thing.”

“I just don’t want you to do something stupid-“

Sam laugh was bitter. “It’s way too late for that. Can you teach me to fight with this?”

Confusion flickered across her face. “I can, I think. Angels are ‘born’ knowing how to use an angel blade. But that is just the most basic use. There are levels of mastery. If you really want someone to teach you, then ask Castiel. He’s a level seven master of the blade, the highest one can attain.”

Sam was suitably impressed but Castiel wasn’t with him at the moment.

“And you? Have you achieved a mastery level?”

“After millions of your years, yes. Level five.”

“Well then I guess I just want the basics, since I don’t have a million years.”

Raeth looked as if she was going to try to talk him out of it but then she sighed and admitted defeat. Sam would just keep after her until she gave in.

“There is a field not far from here, behind a school, out of sight. Can I take you there?”

Sam nodded and walked over to the door, removing the chain so that Dean would be able to get in. He left a hastily scrawled note that read _Out with Raeth. Will be back._

Angel blade clenched in his hand, determination on his face, Sam turned back to face her.

“Let’s get started,” he said.

(0)

 


	63. This.....This is Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with Sam's middle name, since I have never seen one given to him in canon

Raeth was beginning to understand that she had never known anyone like Samuel Dean Winchester. He was intelligent, intense, and passionate and so quiet that all of that could be surprising. He was kind and tender with a heart and conscious bigger than Raeth had thought possible, especially in someone who was also a cold-blooded killer when the need arose.

Sam brought all of that into their relationship – in and out of bed – in ways that left her wondering and amazed. But there was something else.

Sam was playful; and because of that Raeth was becoming more playful in turn. He had freed something inside her that had been chained for too long. Sam had given her permission to laugh – even in these dark circumstances. Sam had brought joy into her existence.

_The soccer field behind the High School was deserted and hidden from curious eyes. The lights were on, cutting through the falling dusk. There was an edge of light lingering on the horizon, fading upwards into midnight blue and then the first sparkle of stars showing in the black above. Raeth had walked Sam through the basics, standing pressed up behind him with her hand around his arm, just above his wrist, guiding him through the basic movements of combat with an angel blade._

_“The outer circle,” she said. Her voice was low and hypnotic as she pushed his hand forward as far as it was go (which was far. Sam’s reach would always be an advantage). “It has four positions – high right, low right, high left, and low left. It is designed for sweeping blows. They take longer to deliver but land with more force once blade meets blade.”_

_Sam was a quick learner. He was moving the blade through the high left defense before she had even uttered the words. Raeth smiled, resting her head against his back for a moment as a form of praise. The desert was dry but still held the heat of the day. Sam’s shirt was damp and they hadn’t even really started moving. She guided him through the movements a few times and then let go of him, stepping away to watch as he repeated them on his own._

_A man that size should not be that graceful, she decided. But he was. Raeth had been living inside her human vessel for quite some time now and she had begun to understand it better. Her physical reactions to Sam Winchester were driven as much by nature as by her growing feelings for him. It was a dangerous thing for an angel to feel this much attraction and protectiveness for one human. But she had long ago stopped caring about that._

_“Good,” she told him, stepping up behind him and taking his arm again. “The middle circle – keep the blade in the center, high, low, left and right. These are defensive and designed to stop an attack on the body.”_

_Sam went through those movements as if he had been born knowing how to do them and Raeth supposed in a way that must be true. It seemed logical that the first form of fighting that a young Sam Winchester had been taught was entirely defensive._

_The muscles in his back rippled as he moved. His shoulders flexed under his gray V-neck t-shirt. A thin dark line of sweat appeared down the back of the shirt. From the waist down, he didn’t move at all._

_Raeth didn’t step away from him as he practiced those moves. She put her hands on his hips and concentrated on quieting her racing pulse. Sam was completely focused on what he was doing, watching the blade in his hand as it drew patterns of defense in the air._

_He stopped and when Raeth didn’t continue the lesson he prompted her, “What’s next?”_

_She had to swallow before speaking. “The inner circle – the most dangerous both in attack and in defense. The blade is held here,” she drew his arm in so that his hand and the blade were almost touching his lower abs, tip tilted up, “angle it so that you can block an attack on the lower third of it. Then push out against the attack and lift the blade to bring it against your opponent’s chest or stomach.”_

_That was harder to practice without an actual opponent. So Raeth moved in front of Sam and drew her own blade. In exquisite sow motion they ran through the movement of attack and defense in the inner circle. When she was certain that he knew the basics Raeth stepped away from him. She stood up tall, braced her feet shoulder width apart and held her angel blade lightly in her hand. Her eyes narrowed in challenge._

_“Now, fight me, Sam,” she whispered softly._

They had been sparring ever since, and while Raeth appreciated Sam’s playfulness, learning to use an angel blade effectively was not a game.

She also wasn’t sure that he was intending to play or to distract her. He had stripped off the gray t-shirt, revealing sweat-sheened skin that shimmered like marble lit from within and muscles carved to perfection. His hair was damp now, curling over his forehead and around his ears, the ends of it teasing his strong shoulders. It looked soft and tousled – an extreme contrast to the rest of him, a statement of carelessness wed to deadly male strength.

His hard certainty of movement, the flow of muscle and blade, the artificial light gleaming from pale skin all seemed to mock the fight rather than enhance it. Sam had done little but defend and get out of her way; and Raeth knew he was better than that.

“Sam!” She cried out, frustrated, “I said _fight_ me.”

“I am!” He hollered back.

“Prove it!” She dared him.

Her sense that he was going to come in for an attack came to her hardly a breath before it happened. She picked up the attack and knocked it aside so easily she heard Sam’s grunt of surprise. She pivoted, danced around and got behind him as he went past. Then she transferred her blade to her left hand and slapped him hard on his perfect ass with the flat of it.

Sam yelped in surprised and twisted around, glaring at her, rubbing his backside ruefully.

“No, you aren’t,” Raeth said, and her tone dared him to disagree, “You’re holding back. Why? You said you wanted to learn.”

Sam looked down and turned his head away. She saw the conflict on his face. When he finally spoke, blurting out his reservations, Raeth was startled. He held up the angel blade, letting it shine in the light and said, bluntly.

“Because I can _hurt_ you with this! There isn’t any other weapon I could use that might actually damage you, but this….. _This_ is different.”

Raeth chose her next words carefully. There wouldn’t be any point in shaming Sam with her ego. She was a level five master of the blade and it was unlikely that Sam would ever be able to really hurt her.

Assurances that she was perfectly safe from him were not what he needed to hear. His concern was genuine and mocking him would only cause him pain.

“You’re used to always being the biggest strongest thing in the room,” she said, shrewdly.

Sam looked up in shock for a moment and then relief poured over his features like a storm in the desert.

“ _Yes,”_ he said, exhaling in a way that made his chest rise and fall, “I’ve broken glasses just picking them up, and I sometimes crush plastic cups. When I was 17 I got out of the Impala and slammed the door and the window broke – and I wasn’t even mad or anything! Every time I hug someone it feels awkward! I’ve never known a girl I didn’t have to bend down to kiss. Try finding clothes that fit when you can only shop at Goodwill. Beds are too short, couches and chairs are too low. Forget public transportation. Motel showers? Every once in a while I can get all the way under one but not always. Sinks? Fuck those. I have to stand like Quasimodo to brush my teeth or wash my face. Trying to walk next to someone is impossible, even with Dean. If I don’t pace myself with him, I wind up 30 feet in front of him. If I sit for too long I lose all the feeling in my feet and my knees hurt like hell. Everything in the world is just too damned small, or short or fragile and breakable. Only the things I hunt present any kind of challenge. But then there was you and I _can’t_ hurt you. I walk with you at my normal stride and you _stay with me_ somehow. I can’t even knock you over. Do you understand how freeing that was? To not have to worry about holding you too tightly, or crushing your hand if I squeezed too hard; to know in bed I could-“

Sam broke off and a heated flush rose up from his chest to his hairline. Raeth couldn’t help but flashback to the last time they’d gotten tangled up in the sheets and after some time spent laughing and groaning and teasing, when she had begged him to just get started, he’d responded with a fractured groan and a good, solid forward thrust that had lifted her off the bed and pushed her at least a foot closer to the headboard.

She suddenly understood with so much clarity that for a moment it clenched tight around her angel’s heart. Holding the angle blade harmlessly at her side, Raeth walked up to him and reached up to brush away the damp hair that was clinging to his forehead.

Sam swallowed and put his hand against her cheek. “The entire side of your face fits in my palm,” he said, and he was right. Her cheek, jaw and temple rested in his palm. His fingers were threaded in her hair, fingertips pressed against the back of her skull. He licked his dry lips and went on, “But this blade _can_ hurt you. I _killed_ an angel with this blade. Even accidentally scratching you would hurt. I can’t get passed that, mentally, to fight you the way you want me to.

“ _Sam,_ ” Raeth whispered. She put one arm around his waist and rested her cheek against his chest. Sam had freed her to find love and joy. He had given her playfulness.

But apparently she wasn’t the only one getting something out of this relationship.

It was another glimpse into the life of Sam Winchester, who had probably never ever felt secure enough to admit a weakness to the father and brother who had trained him to fight.

A moment later she felt his arm go around her, tightly, _fiercely_. He bent and put his face against her hair and just held on.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.

Raeth moved her head away from his just enough to look up into his eyes.

“Your height is an advantage. Your height is …. Amazing. Your height inspires fear in your enemies and respect in your friends. Your height gives you an advantage in a fight that you should _never_ give up. Don’t ever apologize for being what you are and have no control over. If you don’t want to fight with the angel blade, just _say so_.”

She didn’t give him a chance to answer. But she stepped back, taking the blade from his hand as she did. She held up both blades and they vanished before his eyes. In their place she was holding identical weapons carved from stone. She tossed one to Sam and he caught it easily.

Then she held up her arm and her imitation blade, carving a long line across her wrist. Nothing happened.

“Is that better?”

Sam looked astonished and hopeful, but he nodded quickly. Raeth took up her fighting stance again.

“So, now, Sam Winchester, will you fight me?” She asked.

Sam flipped the blade expertly in his fingers, bringing it up in the outer circle and holding it firmly. His eyes narrowed, focusing on her exclusively and his smile was absolutely feral. Raeth felt a small shiver of anticipation spider-walk up her spine. If there was anyone who could match her mercurial moods, it was Sam.

“Yeah,” he said, taking a defensive stance and sounding like a jungle cat with its teeth bared, “Let’s go.”


	64. Velvet and Stone

Freed of his fear that he would accidentally hurt Raethaniel, Sam became a formidable opponent. He was already a trained hunter and he mastered the moves she had taught him quickly. The angel blade must still feel small to him, as he had just told her everything did. But he had adjusted to using it in a fight quickly and once he got a feel for Raeth’s fighting style, he added his own street skill to it and raised it to an entirely new level.

They had parried and lunged and closed with each other many times over the course of the last half an hour. Sam was sheened in sweat. Raethaniel still didn’t have a hair out of place. He was holding his blade in a position she had not taught him – in his right hand, which was level with his chest, but the blade was pointed away and down and he moved the point through the air in a small triangle. He had worked with the angel blade enough now to feel it as an extension of his hand. She recognized it as a move that would favor someone with his height and reach. He could make a sweeping strike in the outer circle aimed at her legs and then bring it up with a simple flick of his wrist and bisect her from hip to shoulder.

Pride flashed in her brown eyes, along with a small smile that played on her mouth. She held her imitation angel blade in basic guard position but tilted the point up and aimed it at his throat. They circled each other like that for a single tense moment and then Sam lunged. His blade dove for her right leg and she swept hers down low to block it. Their blades met with a force that would have struck sparks had they been real. Sam blade slid up and over hers as he brought it across in a strike meant to decapitate.

Raeth ducked, thought she felt the caress of the stone blade and would have lost a lock of hair in a real fight. Rotating her wrist and her hold on her weapon she swept it back and low, through where Sam’s legs should have been. But he anticipated it and leapt into the air, jumping vertically, landing lightly and then spinning away to put distance between them again.

His eyes blazed for a moment and then he laughed, high on adrenaline and success. Caught in the moment, Raeth laughed with him.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” Raeth asked.

“Yeah,” Sam said. He was breathing hard but not winded and he spoke in between breaths. His tongue flicked out, licking his full soft lips. “I…do.”

He closed with her again, arcing a cut towards her left shoulder. Raeth came up under his arm and blocked it in the outer circle. Sam spun around in a sweeping blow at her legs but she blocked that too and batted it aside.

Then Raeth decided to bring her A game. With her blade in her right hand she closed on him quickly and then snapped her blade down in an overhand cut. Sam blocked her in the middle circle. But Raeth continued to move into him, pivoting at the last moment and hammering the hilt of her angel blade into Sam’s midsection. He let out a whoosh of air, startled. Raeth hooked her right leg behind Sam’s right knee and pulled forward, dumping him on the ground.

She barked a laugh of triumph and started to pounce on him, but Sam was already moving. Holding half a sit up, he held his angel blade in his fist, over his heart. Its lethal point was aimed upward and Raeth had seen Sam working out. She knew how fast he could get up from that position.

Raeth was suddenly very satisfied with the exercise and very, very aware of Sam. She moved her hand in a gentle wave and the weapons vanished.

“Hey!” Sam said.

But he got no further. Before he even knew she was moving, Raeth was suddenly straddling him, her knees on the ground, his hips held firmly between her legs. Sam was hard all over, firm muscle under ridiculously smooth skin, like velvet and stone. But he suddenly became very hard under his jeans.

She pressed down, leaned over and kissed him.

It was a deep, wet, tongue-filled kiss, running roughshod inside Sam’s mouth, his tongue, the roof of his mouth, seeking the taste of him, her lips on his, jaw working. Sam was startled for a moment but the hot shock of it passed instantly. He lifted his hips and pushed up. Raeth moaned slightly, the sound vibrating in the kiss and pushed back. Sam choked back a groan. He took her head between his hands, fingers in her hair, gripping a handful tightly. It was the first time she had taken the initiative, the first time Raeth had kissed Sam and not the other way around. Sam’s chin and jaw were sandpapery, but his mouth and tongue were soft and willing. Her hands were on his shoulders, fingers digging into muscle and bone.

She let go of him, pulling her head free and sitting up. She was starting to pull her t-shirt out of the waistband of her jeans when Sam finished sitting up and grabbed her wrists.

“No, baby, wait,” he said, breathing hard, truly panting now.

Raeth’s brown eyes opened in question, confused because she had not expected him to refuse.

Sam gave a shaky laugh. “Getting caught practicing with fake knives is one thing. Getting caught rolling around naked in the grass is likely to be more problematic. Take us back to the motel room?”

Before he could exhale they were sitting on the floor, still tangled up together, Raeth still across his lap. His grey shirt was abandoned by the bed. Raeth’s hand was on the back of his neck, pulling him into another kiss, tongues instantly in play. Sam slid his hands down her back, feeling her shiver, until he reached her hips and brought her more tightly against him.

They kissed with complete abandon for a long time. At some point Raeth let go of him long enough to pull her shirt off and over her head. Sam unfastened her bra with one hand, fingers deft and certain, and Raeth shook it free of her arms. It landed somewhere near Sam’s discarded shirt.

“The door,” Sam panted, as his fingers sought the belt around her jeans, “The chain… Dean….”

“Castiel will keep him busy for hours still,” Raeth answered, running her hands over his chest and shoulders as if she was trying to memorize him.

“Cas? What?” He sounded as if he didn’t have that many brain cells functioning anymore, not the ones responsible for coherent conversation anyway.

“It’s all right, Sam,” she whispered, “We’re alone.”

But to make him happy she waved a hand and the chain slipped into place, securing the door.

By that time Sam had the front of her jeans open and was trying to get his fingers inside. He stroked them over the skin below her navel and felt her shiver again. Then their position became intolerable for him and he rolled them over, pushing her down into the floor and kneeling up beside her. She kicked off her sandals and they wrestled a moment with her jeans and he was pretty sure he heard her panties tear, but he pushed them all aside.

His mouth found her breasts first, then kissed a long slow line of fire down her belly and lower His tongue traced the cut of her hips. His hair feathered the inside of her thighs, tickling and delicious. Then Sam’s talented and insistent mouth was between her lips, tasting her, teasing, tantalizing.

He lifted one leg up over his shoulder, his hand sliding over her bare foot and down her shin and then back. Raeth heard a whimper from somewhere far away and then realized it was her. The way her vessel was responding to Sam was primal and insitinctive, something bred into the blood and bone and DNA of the human species. She was helpless against it. She had been in her vessel for far too long and at the moment she had no intention of giving it up any time soon. She put one hand on the side of his head and gripped his hair so tightly it had to hurt.

He brought her up into ecstasy and then stopped, kissed her gently and seemed about to rise. Raeth made a strangled sound of protest and pulled his hair again, lifting her hips urgently.

“No,” she said, “don’t stop. _Please_.”

After a soft breath that sounded smug as well as surprised, Sam went back to doing what he had been doing. A moment later Raeth gave a sharp gasp that had the shape of his name in it and her body collapsed in convulsions. She desperately tried to get her legs back together and Sam hastily exited, stretching out beside her, throwing a still jean-clad leg over hers to anchor her to the world, holding her tight in his arms. Raeth pressed her face against his chest, continuing to clench helplessly and continued to sob Sam’s name, sometimes reverently, sometimes as if she had lost him.

Sam dropped tender, passionate kisses on the top of her head, rubbed his cheek against her hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmured, “I’m here. I’m right here.”

“ _Sam,”_ she said, one more time and then shuddered and relaxed in his arms, sighing softly.

Sam waited until she had calmed and then tipped her face up, smiling, to kiss him lightly on the mouth.

“You think you’re so clever,” she said.

Sam grinned at her, “Yeah,” he said, rolling to his knees and picking her up as if she weighed nothing. Carrying her to the bed he said, “Yeah, I do.”

 


	65. Guardian Angel

Raeth put her arms around his neck and hung on, kissing in long lingering touches of their lips, all the way to the bed. Sam was still feeling pretty smug and it showed in the smile that edged the kisses. He let go with one arm so that he could grasp the bedspread, blanket and sheet and haul them unceremoniously out of the way. Then he gently put her on the mattress and crawled in beside her, still kissing.

He stayed on his knees when she released her hold on his neck. She ran her hands down his chest, her thumb stroked back and forth over his tattoo for a moment as if she needed reassurance that it was there; and his beautifully sculpted abs until she hit the waist of his jeans.

“Take these off,” she begged.

Sam didn’t comply immediately. His lips parted, his breath warm and his tongue insistent. Raeth sighed and opened her mouth in answer. Before he kissed her again Sam said, “Yeah,” and it was the way he said it, low and pleading, his voice a little rough now. This time he kissed her like he never had any intentions of coming up for air. She kissed back as if this frantic need was the most natural thing in the world.

Perhaps it was.

When he finally broke away, he put his forehead against hers for a moment, rubbed noses with her, eyes closed. Then he crawled backwards off the bed and made short if awkward work of removing his jeans. He almost fell trying to get his boots off without sitting down and then hopped around on one foot trying to get his socks off at the same time as the jeans. Raeth lay back with a mass of blond hair fanned out on white sheets and watched him with laughter in her eyes. Sam finally sat down on the bed before falling, yanking at the other leg of the jeans and Raeth was giggling by the time he finished.

Trying not to laugh, Sam rolled over and gathered her into his arms, all rough hands and glorious expanse of naked skin, taking up more than his fair share of the bed. Raeth reached for him as if she was drowning.

“ _Sam_ ,” she murmured.

He explored her with his palms and fingers and lips and tongue, as if it had been months since they’d shared a bed instead of a few days. She didn’t protest and Sam knew that she understood he wouldn’t worry about his own needs until he was sure that she was with him. His erection was getting more and more insistent, certain what it wanted and needed. It was currently trapped between his lower abs and her hip and he couldn’t help rubbing it a little, smearing fluid around the tip and onto her soft skin. Her hands were becoming anxious in their travels over his body – his shoulders and down the valley between the muscles of his back, over his arms, biceps and deltoids, raising little chills when she used just her fingertips.

Sam’s fingers roamed lower, down over her hip and strayed into soft blond curls and moisture, rubbed slippery folds until her breathing shattered into chaos.

Raeth moaned a little, put a hand on his back and urged him on top. His response was entirely too eager, too rushed until he slid inside of her. Then he went still. It was never an easy fit when he was on top. He was still almost a foot taller than Raeth, broader than she was, dwarfing her and forcing her down into the mattress. Her chest rose and fell against his ribcage for a moment as he worked to find a comfortable position. All the while his body was demanding that he start moving, and _soon._ His balls were pulled up tight against his body, heavy with the ache of waiting.

He arched his back to look down into her eyes and when she looked back up at him, Sam saw…. saw _something_ that made his chest ache. His heart, already pounding, skipped and then resumed in a stuttering double-time. He took a very deep breath and pushed his hips down against hers, pushing in deeper.

“Okay?” He asked, anxiously.

She smiled and rocked her hips in a delicious counterpoint. “Yes,” she said, wrapping a leg around him and closing her eyes. “Yes, Sam.”

“You sure?” He asked, lowering his head even further to place his mouth against her neck, kissing his way around her beautiful ear and lovely jaw. Beneath his seeking lips her skin was warm, flushed with desire.

“Sam, yes, now _please_ ,” she said. Her fingernails dug into his hips, trying to encourage movement. Her hips swiveled under his.

Then they stopped talking all together as Sam pounded into her, inhibition gone, any fear that he would hurt her long since lost. He kissed her hair, her cheek, her forehead. The scratchy shadow of his beard scraped her neck when he buried his face there for a long time. Her nails slid over sweat slicked skin. Raeth - the angel, always cognizant, always aware - lost track of time. She climaxed again, suddenly, shockingly, sobbing his name again and he just moved harder and made her come again moments later. Somewhere towards the end of that one Sam choked out her name and some other shamelessly loud incoherent sounds. His big muscled frame began to shudder and everything went white noise as he shot deep inside her.

He held her as they both calmed, trapped her between his body and the bed. When he thought he could see straight again Sam rolled over, gathering her up against him in the cradle of his arms. There were tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Sam wiped them away with his thumb and then kissed them dry.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice raw.

“Dean -” Raeth began.

“Knows we’re sleeping together,” Sam finished. “He won’t be shocked.”

Raeth didn’t want to go anywhere. So she nodded and settled more firmly against him. Lifting one hand she waved the lights off and took the chain off the door.

Once he was secure that she wasn’t going to evaporate, Sam let exhaustion take him. He was replete, satisfied to the bone. He smoothed a strand of blond hair back over her ear and then reached for the tangled sheet and blanket, pulling it up and over them.

Sam fell asleep immediately, content that an angel was guarding his dreams.

 


	66. Sammy, It's Just Me

Waves from an aquamarine sea lapped gently against a beach of diamond bright sand. White wisps of clouds blew across an azure sky. Palm trees with emerald leaves rustled in the tropical breeze that teased Sam’s hair. He was lying in a hammock, looking out at the water. He had one arm up over his head and the other resting on his bare chest. His heart was beating in slow rhythm with the waves. He was wearing a pair of torn jeans that were faded beyond hope and his feet were also bare.

The place seemed blessedly free of demons, kitsune, wendigos, vengeful spirits and former archangels that wanted more from Sam than he would willingly give.

“Raeth?” He said, out loud, without opening his eyes. He could sense that she was near, the way he could sense most things even with his eyes closed. Growing up, games of Blindman’s Bluff with Dean had never been for play.

When she answered, it wasn’t in words. It was a lilting whisper inside his mind.

_Yes, Sam?_

“I am dreaming, aren’t I?” His voice was a little slurred, as if he was drowsy, as if he’d had just a little too much to drink.

_Yes, you are._

“Where is this?”

_Does it matter?_

Sam thought about it but not too long. Thanks to Raeth he was no longer sleeping lonely and wary, desperate not to dream at all and then waking feeling sleep deprived. “Nah, I guess not.”

Her laughter sprinkled stardust across his consciousness, sparkling like a rainbow. It made Sam grin for a moment, closing his eyes to savor the ‘sound’ and the feeling it invoked. Then he went back to watching the water again.

_Sam?_

“Yes?”

_I need to go for a little while._

Sam turned his head in the other direction. Behind him was the dark chamber in which Raeth rested in her dragon form. Her lovely wedge shaped head was all that he could see. The rest of her seemed to be hidden in the night-dark chamber beyond. He was beginning to understand that this was the refuge she had created for him. The beach and sky existed where the wall of books had once been, because this was what Sam wished to dream about.

Her eyes were open and gazing at him, multifaceted, like jewels, swirls of gold and brown, amber, chestnut, cinnamon and copper. Sam had gotten used to seeing her like this, understanding also that this was the only way he could view her true form, in the safety of dreams.

“Something wrong?” Sam asked, too lightly. Even in his dream, his heart had started beating faster.

_Castiel is calling me. You are perfectly safe here. Dream whatever you like, whatever makes you happy. No one will disturb you._

“You’re sure?”

_Of course. I’ll be back soon, before you wake up most likely. Dean is on his way back too._

“Will you be all right?”

There was a pause; brief but meaningful and heartbreaking to Sam, who felt everything too deeply. Raeth was a soldier, used to following orders and very much _not_ used to anyone caring about her safety. Sam gazed back at her and tried to put as much concern and sincerity in his expression as he could.

The next thing he knew the dragon faded into a gold mist. Raeth, in her human form, appeared next to him, standing by the hammock and gazing down at him fondly. She bent over and Sam lifted up to meet her. An unrestrained mass of wheat blond hair cascaded down to curtain them from the world. She touched her lips, once, to the corner of his mouth and lingered there, saturating Sam with a sweetness like honey and a longing that could not find any fulfilment in that moment.

Even though he knew he was dreaming, the reaction of his body certainly felt real. Anticipation and desire ran through muscle and bone. He felt a fine tremor in the press of her lips, as if Raeth was dealing with something unknown that frightened her. In the next moment he dismissed the thought, for what could possibly frighten an angel of the Lord?

“I will be well, Sam,” she said, rising as she spoke.

She touched the corner of his jaw, just below his ear, rubbed her thumb along his bristly cheek. Her fingertips lay lightly on his skin; yet they caused long, deep waves of earning to spiral into his blood. Sam clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her.

“Raeth,” Sam began, but she vanished.

He sighed and looked around. The chamber was still there, though he had no idea where it actually existed. The beach was also still there, waves lapping gently and lulling him back to peaceful rest.

What seemed like moments later Sam again became aware that he wasn’t alone and distantly heard Dean’s voice.

_Sammy. It’s just me._

Eyes closed, unwilling to move, Sam answered, “ _Ummp_ ……”

(0)

**_Then:_ **

_It was well after midnight when John and Dean finally got back from dealing with a vengeful spirit – a miserable man who had strangled his wife with a chain (for cheating on him supposedly) before hanging himself with the same chain. Ten years later random victims began dying of strangulation, with the marks of a chain clearly visible on their throats, the only connection among the victims was that they had all been involved in desecrating the cemetery in which the man had been buried. It had taken them longer to dispose of the ghost than John had intended; or at least Dean liked to think that John hadn’t intended to be gone until after midnight because if not they had left Sammy alone in a motel room for way too long. Dean hoped the kid was smart enough to be sleeping when they got back; and that Sammy had taken the big bed and not the extra cot they always asked for, so that Sammy could have his own bed. Dad wouldn’t like it if Sam was still awake this late._

_When they pulled up outside the room, Dean was glad to see that the lights were off, and no flicker from the TV either, or Dad would have harsh words to say about it and he’d see that mutinous scowl between his brothers eyebrows even as Sammy muttered, ‘yes, sir’ after everything Dad said._

_Sammy was, indeed, sleeping in the little cot, when they unlocked the rickety door and walked quietly into the room. The only light was from the kitchenette – the LEDs of the clock and some of the controls on the microwave – and the street lights pouring in through the thin drapes. The red light on the smoke detector didn’t do anything to cut the darkness._

_Dad grunted, in approval possibly, and went into the bathroom. It was then that Dean saw Sammy’s eyes open – wide and liquid in the artificial light._

_“Did you get it?” Sammy asked, quietly._

_He was eight years-old and he had just recently learned what it was their father was doing on all his long trips away; and Dean was twelve and had just recently started going with him._

_Dean cross the floor and pulled the sheet and scratchy blanket up over Sam’s shoulders._

_“Yeah, it’s gone. Salted and burned it all the way,” Dean whispered, brushing shaggy hair out of his brother’s eyes and wondering again why Sam seemed to hate getting his hair cut so much – so much that Dad had virtually stopped trying to make him get it cut. “Go back to sleep before Dad catches you.”_

_Sam yawned and snuggled down. “Knew you would,” he murmured. It didn’t sound like Sam was trying to convince himself either. It sounded like Sam believed in them completely and hadn’t ever had a doubt._

_Dean smirked a little and stroked Sam’s hair until the steady rise and fall of his breathing told him that his brother was asleep again._

_(0)_

**Now:**

It was getting close to 4am when Dean finally returned to the whitewashed little motel. He didn’t bother being quiet about opening the door. Sam would hear it no matter how quiet he tried to be and Dean was too drunk and tired to even attempt quiet. He _did_ push it open slowly, in case the chain was on – Sam’s signal that he wanted privacy, for whatever reason, though lately the reason had been a certain angel with very long, blond hair.

Which was fine with Dean. If anyone needed desperately to get laid on a regular basis, it was Sam. The guy had always been a little weird about sex – refusing to ever discuss the rare girlfriend he’s had time to acquire in their revolving door High School days, never wanted to reveal which base he’d gotten to, prissy as all hell about it, really. Dean had stopped asking around the time that Sam could suddenly look him in the eye and tell him to shut the hell up, with an expression that said he’d enforce that physically if Dean didn’t comply.

Sam had generally spent his teen years being a royal pain the ass about everything – including girls. When Dean had complained to Dad, John had simply shrugged it off as being a teenager, telling Dean that Sam would come around. It was the first straight up, actual, stupid thing Dean had ever heard his father say. It seemed pretty obvious that Sam wasn’t like them.

The chain was off and Dean could tell in the milky spill of light that Sam was alone on the double bed. He was taking up the entire space even though he was mostly on the left side of the bed, one arm spread out to the side as if someone had been resting beside him. He had one leg drawn up but the other was fully extended, causing his foot to stick out from under the sheet and hang off the end of the bed. Unless they ever got lucky enough to find a motel room with a California king bed, there hadn’t been such a thing as a bed that Sam wasn’t too big for in a very long time.

It was always a relief to get back and find Sam sleeping and in one piece. The faint scent of sweat and sex was still being carried by the recycled, refrigerated air. Sam’s clothes were scattered on the floor, one leg of his jeans was inside out and his briefs were still tangled up in them. His shirt and boots were on the floor a few feet away.

Dean grinned to himself. _Good for you, little brother._

The next moment Sam stirred a bit, slid down under the sheet the way he did just before waking up.

“Sammy? It’s just me,” Dean said and in return Sam muttered, “ _Ummp_ ….”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Go back to sleep,” he said.

(0)


	67. Hell Gate

Castiel was waiting for her on a rocky outcropping above the gaping hole in the earth that was the mouth of Gypsum Cave – in the Sunrise Mountains, just about 12 miles north of Las Vegas. It was a smallish cave with five rooms and had once been the lair of the Giant Ground Sloth of North America. It also contained significant evidence of inhabitation by early man.

Signs all around it proclaimed that it was Private Property. No Trespassing. Violators would be prosecuted. All of this had started five years previously when the surrounding land had been purchased by the GYPCO Building Products Corporation. Gypsum Cave was now private, being mined exclusively by GYPCO BPC.

Raethaniel appeared beside Castiel, followed almost instantly by Lamechiel. The night was still holding court over the desert. The only light was from the half moon, shining in the cloudless, star strewn sky.

“Is this is?” Mecha asked without preamble. “This is where they are set to open another Hellgate?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered, “This Corporation is being run by demons. I suspect all of the miners have been possessed as well. They’ve had this plan in motion for some time.”

“When the other Hellgate opened, they must have all come here. That’s why we haven’t been able to find them.” Mecha did not sound at all pleased. His mouth was set in a grim line. His wings were up and flared open.

“We’re going to need help on this one and I don’t mean just the Winchesters. This is going to be a battle of heavenly proportions,” Castiel said, “We’ll have to contact other angels as reinforcements.”

“That’s going to be tricky,” Mecha pointed out. “You know that most of our brothers and sisters aren’t interested in stopping the coming battle.”

“The battle between Michael and Lucifer is one thing,” Raeth spoke up. “Opening a gate to hell large enough to let in Belial’s army is another. Even those who want to rule the Earth would prefer not to let a demon army run roughshod over it first.”

Castiel turned to face her, blue eyes like layers of starlight, crystal blue like the heart of a flame.

“Who do you trust to contact? The Third Heaven is still barely under control,” Castiel reminded her.

“Dalquiel freed me and he’ll know of others who will help,” Raeth responded.

“She’s right,” Mecha said. “Dalquiel can help us. How many demons are working the mine?”

“Perhaps 50, possibly more,” Castiel said, “It’s difficult to get an accurate count. The Corporation is run by a Board of Directors, 8 men and 2 women, most likely all possessed. I don’t know how many of the regular workers are also possessed. The corporate headquarters is in a 3 story building just north of here, on a private access only road.”

The 3 angels were silent for a moment, all of them thinking.

“You’re certain we shouldn’t bring in the Winchesters?” Lamechiel asked, finally. “Their history of success against demons seems to make them a logical choice.”

“Even Sam and Dean can’t go up against an entire corporation full of demons,” Raeth said, defensively.

But Castiel gave her a narrow look. “Can’t they?” He asked. “They _are_ the Winchesters.”

“You’re the one who said we didn’t need help from the Winchesters,” Raeth replied.

“I said we needed help and _not just_ the Winchesters,” Castiel answered.

“I don’t want Sam involved in this at all,” Raeth said, heatedly, “It’s too dangerous.”

“For the Winchesters?” Castiel replied, sounding stunned. “Even Lucifer won’t let one of them die. I suspect they could walk into GYPCO and every demon there would bow down to them.”

“I’d rather Sam didn’t take that chance,” Raeth was clearly getting more annoyed by the second.

“It’s not up to you,” Mecha answered, “Sam will ask you where you went, what Castiel wanted and you’ll have to tell him because you can’t lie to him. At that point the decision to help or not will be his. You can’t change that.”

“And,” Castiel said, with resignation, “if we don’t include them, they will include themselves and we won’t have any idea what they might do at any given moment. It would be better to work together.”

Raeth’s eyes filled with anger. It was quiet, defeated anger but it set Castiel and Lamechiel on edge. Castiel forced himself to calm because confronting an angry angel with anger in return was never a good idea. He put his hand on Lamechiel’s arm and squeezed. Mecha understood and relaxed, lowering his raised wings as well.

“You know we’re right, Raeth,” Cas said, very softly. “You’re mission now is to control Sam Winchester’s actions as best you can. Advise him, watch over him, encourage him to keep you at his side.”

“Control Sam Winchester?” Raeth repeated, clearly aghast. “That’s like putting a saddle on an alligator.”

“Which should be entirely possible for an angel,” Castiel observed.

“I can interfere with an alligator’s free will if I so choose,” Raeth shot back, “Sam is a little more difficult to deal with.”

“You’re his guardian,” Lamechiel reminded her.

“If he decides to walk into the corporate headquarters I won’t be able to go with him,” she said.

“You can still watch over them,” Cas said. “Mecha, return to the third heaven and see what help Dalquiel can provide. Raeth, go tell the Winchesters what we’ve learned. Try to get Dean to follow Sam’s lead. Dean will want to charge in with iron and salt in one hand and the demon knife in the other. Sam will take time to make a plan.” He was giving orders again. Raeth and Mecha could refuse those orders – Castiel _was_ fallen after all. But they both nodded.

Lamechiel evaporated with a rush of wings. Raeth disappeared right after him, flying back to Sam and Dean in their room in the little whitewashed motel.

(0)

Sam was working in the little kitchenette, standing at the stove in a pair of cutoff jeans that were barely clinging to his hips, waistband of his boxers visible above them, barefoot and naked to the waist, damp hair curling against his neck and shoulders.

“Dean!” He yelled, over the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. “This is almost ready!”

In the middle of his last sentence he heard Raeth return to the room. He glanced over his shoulder, unwilling to stop watching the omelet he was carefully cooking.

“Hey,” he said, so glad to see her that it came out breathless.

Uncertain, because the ways of human communication still confused her at times, Raeth said, “Hey” and then she immediately knew what she wanted. She walked up behind him, pulled in by some force of gravity she didn’t understand, and put her arms around his waist, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

Sam paused, one hand on the handle of the frying pan and one on the spatula, held suspended in the act of flipping the omelet. Color rose up over his torso onto his cheekbones, heat poured off of him along with it.

Raeth kissed him again, lighter, teasing, licking the valley of his spine with just the tip her tongue. After a moment, Sam laughed, giggled really, and then shivered a little before laughing again.

“That tickles,” he said, wriggling, making the muscles in his back flex. “Come on! I’m going to burn Dean’s Spanish omelet.”

Raeth laughed too and finished with another deep kiss.

“What did Castiel want?” Sam asked. He gave the omelet one last stir and turned off the burner under it. Raeth let go of him while he poured the whole thing into a pan, added beaten eggs and sprinkling it with some more cheese. Then he put it in the oven. After that, he turned and slipped his arms around her.

“I’ll tell you over breakfast,” she said. “You cooked for Dean?”

Sam shrugged, an expansive lift of broad shoulders. “He cooked for me almost the entire time we were growing up. I return the favor when I can. I saw the manchego cheese and the chorizo in the farmers’ market and the rest of the stuff was easy to get.”

His tone was light but Raeth could tell that Sam was excited about doing this for Dean.

“He was a good big brother,” she said.

“He _is_ a good big brother, but don’t tell him I said that. You can remind me, though, the next time I want to kill him myself.”

She laughed again. “When will that be?”

“With us?” Sam asked, “Could be 5 minutes from now. Could be next week. Could be we make it through to the end of the year. You can never tell.”

The shower in the next room shut off with a bang and rattle of old pipes.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, ”Raeth is here.”

“Okay,” Dean yelled back from the other side of the door.

“Does it matter?” Raeth asked.

“If you don’t want him to walk out here in just a towel or less, then yes.”

“I know what men look like naked, Sam.”

“Yeah, well, Dean would just walk out here naked and grin at you. I’d just as soon you didn’t know what my brother looks like naked. It’s a human thing, so just humor me.”

Raeth continued to regard him, baffled but accepting. Sam set the dilapidated table with the cracked tiles on the top with mismatched plates from the cupboard over the sink and Raeth helped. They were taking the omelet out of the oven and pouring coffee when Dean emerged wearing boxers and nothing else.

Sam scowled at him and Dean spread his hands in a gesture that said _what._

“It’s all I had in there with me,” Dean said defensively, “They’re clean and they don’t have holes, well, except where they should have holes.”

He grinned at Raethaniel and lifted his eyebrows in feigned innocence. Raeth couldn’t help but laugh at him.

Then Dean slipped some gym shorts on over his boxers and they sat down at the table to eat. Sam pulled the overstuffed chair up to the table for Raeth, who sat down and relaxed in it as the men cut into the omelet and started eating.

Sam watched anxiously for a moment as Dean sampled the meal. When he didn’t say anything at first, Sam prompted, “Well?”

“Well, what? It’s fine. It’s good…. It’s great actually.”

Sam tried hard not to smile. He nodded as if he was just satisfied and then turned his attention to his own plate.

“So,” Dean said, bolting a particularly huge bite of omelet and trying to talk at the same time, “What do we do now?”

Sam briefly explained about Raeth leaving in the middle of the night in answer to a call from Castiel. Then he looked at her and repeated his earlier question, “What did he want?”

“Well,” Raeth said, steadily, “he did have some news…..”

 

 


	68. Sworn To Protect You

The guys ate while Raeth told them everything Castiel had discovered. When she started telling them about the corporation, Sam jumped up and brought his laptop back to the table, pushing his plate aside to make room. Her muttered under his breath as he searched for a wifi signal and then whispered a triumphant, “Yes!” A moment later he was on the company’s webpage.

“It’s a building supply company, specializing in large projects like shopping malls and grocery stores. It says that 35 people are employed by their corporate office,” he told them. “Should we assume all 35 are possessed?”

“Yes, I’m afraid that is exactly what we have to assume. But Castiel mentioned a Board of Directors. Are they listed?” Raeth asked. “They’d only need a handful of people who knew about the mine, to direct the work there.”

Sam typed and clicked and then said, “Huh, yeah, list of names and photos. Oh, and guess who their corporate lawyer is?”

Dean rolled his eyes and chewed faster, so he could swallow and then growl, “Oh, please tell me it’s a guy named Richard Callahan.”

“Yep,” Sam said, tight lipped and typing again as fast as he could. Then he went on, “And they all live in the same condo complex right here in Henderson. They’re listed in the Henderson White pages. Two married couples. The rest are single. Richard Callahan is single.”

Dean pondered that while digging out another helping of omelet from the pan. “So,” he said, “That’s good. It’s Saturday. We can probably catch them all at home.”

Sam glanced up from the screen and nodded absently. Raeth stared, looking back and forth between them for a moment before blurting,

“And then what? Murder them all in broad daylight? Go up against Belial yourselves?”

“You brought us into this to end Belial,” Dean reminded her, not kindly. Once Dean caught the scent of something he was supposed to hunt, he didn’t stay on the leash with any kind of grace.

“Not alone!” Raeth said. “Belial is a powerful demon.”

“More powerful than Yellow-eyes?” Dean challenged, because he remembered almost bleeding to death while Sam had been pinned to a wall at the hands of Azazel.

“Yes,” Raeth answered, “Much more.”

“All right,” Sam intervened because he knew when Dean was working up a head of steam and he suspected Raeth was too. “We can’t take on Belial without backup. So what can we do?”

Dean looked back at him. “Track them down one – or two- at a time and take them out. These aren’t the first demons we’ve taken on. Won’t be easy but we know what we’re doing and this time we have angelic help.” He looked pointedly at Raeth. “Right?”

“Yes,” Raeth said stiffly. “I’ll help you. So will Castiel I imagine.”

Dean went back to shoveling food into his mouth. “Okay,” he said, “We’ll leave when we get breakfast cleaned up.”

Sam didn’t answer at all. He didn’t start eating either. He just stared off to the side for a little bit, seeing nothing. Dean ignored him for a while. In fact, pointedly ignored him., looking at his plate and chewing as if the omelet was glass.

Tension got the better of Dean. He stopped eating and snapped, “Okay, what?”

Sam blinked and looked up, confused for a moment, as if he had forgotten where he was.

“What?” He said.

“What do you mean, what? What are you thinking?”

It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes but he looked miserable.

“All these people are going to die,” he said.

Dean put his fork down and looked away, annoyed and ready to snap again. But it was Sammy and Dean knew that snapping at him was the fastest way to make Sam do exactly what he didn’t want him to do. He took a breath and then speared Sam with a look that should have gone through him and burned the front of the refrigerator.

“They’re already dead, Sam. You know that. Once someone is possessed-“

“No!’ Sam cut him off. “I don’t know that. I know something exactly the opposite of that!”

“Sam, don’t,” Dean said, the warning edge in his voice was lethal.

“Sam!” Raeth said, “Something like this, this big. They probably killed or lethally maimed these people before they even took possession. They wouldn’t want to risk anyone hearing about this.”

“Who would believe them!?” Sam asked, scathingly.

“The angels, for one. We’re listening everywhere. I still don’t know how Castiel found out everything he knew. I suspect there were some less than savory aspects to how he acquired the information.”

“Less than savory?” Dean repeated, looking at her as if he wasn’t sure she was quite real.

Raeth gave him a narrow look in return. “He has already fallen, rebelled. He has very little left to lose.”

“All right look,” Sam said, needing to separate them again. “We’re about to go up against a whole lot more demons than we’ve ever dealt with before. I think we’re going to need more than just some salt and iron; even an exorcism won’t send them back to Hell or destroy them. They’ll just seek new hosts. You said that Belial is more powerful than Azazel. But I can stop them all. I can-“

In unison, one as a barked order and the other in a horrified cry, Dean and Raeth said, “No!”

Sam stopped talking abruptly. Dean’s eyes were layered in emotion – ferocity and fear, pain and determination, with anger being the most prevalent. Sam couldn’t bring himself to even look at Raeth. So he just kept staring forward into his brother’s furious expression, seeing the barely leashed anger there. Dean pointed the fork at Sam and growled,

“You can _what?_ Drink a couple of gallons of demon blood and risk going dark side yourself? No you can’t!”

“But I-“

“No,” Dean said, in a tone that implied the discussion was over.

“It’s almost a hundred people!” Sam protested.

Dean tossed his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter. He sat back, tight-lipped, muscles in his jaw rippling.

“Sam!”

It was dangerous, shaky ground. But he was Sam fucking Winchester and Dean had just pissed him off.

“You can’t tell me what to do!’ Sam said, between his teeth, “You’re not Dad and if you remember I didn’t always do a great job listening to him either.”

“I don’t care if I’m not Dad!” Dean shot back, “I’m your brother. Don’t say another word. You ever – and I mean _ever_ – take so much as a thimble of demon blood and I will lock you up so long your hair will be down to your knees and gray before you get out.”

“And I’ll help him.” Raeth’s voice was like a wolf howling at midnight, deep, echoing. It came from all around them and from inside Sam. “I won’t let you turn into something I have to kill; not when I’ve been sworn to protect you.”

Sam felt her voice in his blood, in his heartbeat. It chilled him. A glance at Dean and Sam could see that his brother had lost some of the color in his face; but not any of the determination in his eyes. Without looking up Sam could see the dark shadow of Raeth’s wings cast upon the motel room walls.

Though his voice shook a little bit Dean said, gruffly, “Right. Now shut up and eat your breakfast.”

Sam continued to stare at him for a while before admitting defeat. Dean was his older brother and he held to a tradition that said older brothers were allowed to be overprotective, pain in the ass bullies.

He picked up his fork again, which went a long way to easing the tension in the room. Dean stopped chewing as if he was trying to grind glass. The shadow of Raeth’s wings faded.

“All right,” Sam said, “So what _are_ we going to do?”

Dean was thoughtful for a moment. Then, “They’re demons. We arm ourselves against demons. We’ve got salt, iron, the knife and more importantly, the angel blades. But we’re going to need more salt. A lot more salt.”

Sam looked up from his plate and met Dean’s eyes. Typically of his brother, Dean had clearly moved on already from his previous anger. As far as he was concerned the matter was settled.

“Why?” Sam asked. He knew already. He only asked it so that Raeth could hear the answer. He scooped more food onto his plate, mostly to make Dean happy and also because he wasn’t sure when they’d stop to eat again.

Dean leaned forward and began to explain.

 

 


	69. Did We Pass?

**Then:**

At 4am, John Winchester parked the Impala around a bend in the road, a quarter of a mile from the cabin – the safe house – where he had left Sam and Dean – took a spray can of WD-40 out of the trunk and then walked to the house slowly. His boots had occasionally soft-crunched on the gravel in the dirt road, but one thing a hunter learned very quickly was stealth.

He slipped up onto the deck when he reached the cabin, gave the hinges on the door a healthy dose of the WD, put the key in the lock and turned it ever so gently. It eased open with barely a whisper. The whole place was just one big room really, with a bathroom no bigger than a closet tucked behind a wall in the corner. There was an old iron woodstove, a beaten couch and battered coffee table. There was still only one bed, a big uncomfortable double with sheets and a comforter worn by time. The boys were in it together, facing outward, back to back. There was a shotgun leaning up against the wall old pine nightstand on Dean’s side, within easy reach. There wasn’t enough room in the bed, but they were managing it, and keeping a back to back defense position at the same time.

Moonlight streamed in from the windows behind him. John looked his fill for a little bit, holding his position at the door. Sam was 14 now, skinny as a scarecrow, all gangly arms and legs, hands and feet too big and ungainly and still no bigger than a minute. His profile on the pillow looked too much like Mary’s, the way it always did, and it always hurt a little for John to see that. But Sam looked peaceful in his sleep, even smiling a little and John hoped it was a good dream. Dean was 18, almost full grown and promising to fill out with his father’s strength and build. There was a slight scowl on his face and in the moonlight John could see the cuts and bruises from their last hunt on his face, neck and shoulder. They were still healing, the bruises faded, the cuts scabbing over.

They were both sound asleep, dead to the world. John could have shot them both before Dean would have a chance to put his hand on that shotgun. He ground his teeth, frustrated, because he had trained them better than this and they should _know_ better. He took a step towards the bed…

….And then the two boys were moving, so fast and deadly it happened in the blink of an eye, sitting up, turning towards the door. John’s hand went for the gun in his waistband on automatic reflex, remembering just in time who he was facing. Before he would have been able to get it clear he was staring down the business end of the two handguns the boys had pulled from under their pillows.

The shotgun had been a diversion.

They both stared back at him along the barrel, uncertain but determined. With the light behind him, John knew he was nothing but a silhouette to them. He could be anyone, any _thing_. So he froze. But before he could speak, Dean said, cautiously,

“Dad?”

Relieved, John sighed, shoulders lifting and falling.

“Yeah, Dean,” he answered. “It’s me.”

Dean lowered his gun and grinned like a young wolf, jaw dropped, eyes shining in the dark. Sam didn’t move.

“Did we pass?” Sam asked, so quietly that it was chilling to hear.

“Pass?” John repeated.

“Your little test.” There was a strange hardness in his young voice that could be heard clearly.

John huffed out a laugh that was startled and pleased all at once.

“Yeah, Sammy, you did great,” John said.

Still Sam didn’t move right away He held the gun a few seconds longer and then lowered it. Throwing back the covers, gun in his hand, he said,

“I need to pee.”

He walked past John without another glance in his direction and shut the curtain covering the entrance to the bathroom with a hard yank.

Dean leaned back against the headboard, cocky and deliberate, resting the gun on his thigh.

“Welcome home,” he said.

“Yeah,” John said, more than a little shaky.

(0)

**Then:**

The only thing Dean didn’t like about his own plan was that it had to wait until nightfall and it had to wait until the angels were in place to storm the mine, which in turn had to wait for Monday morning at the soonest, according to Cas. The angels were gathering, prepared to wait until all the workers had reported for the day. So the earliest they could make any move on the corporate headquarters was Sunday night.

Castiel had promised to take them out to the headquarters building after dark, so they could scope it out and finalize their plan for attacking it. But dusk was a long way off at the moment.

It made Dean edgy. Talking through the plan and working out the details only took so long. Dean had driven hundreds of miles to get here, taken some downtime to recharge and now that he had an enemy in his sites, he was ready for action.

Sam watched Dean pacing around the room like a tiger in a cage that was too small. For himself, Sam was content to wait. He was sitting on the bed, legs blessedly stretched out in front of him as far as they would go, pillows piled up at his back, scrolling through TV channels and listening to the air conditioner cycle on and off.

But Dean’s restless energy was hard to ignore. Casually, Sam said,

“Car’s kind of dusty.”

Dean stopped immediately. “What?”

“I said the Impala is kind of dusty. That was a long ride here. The back seat could use a good cleaning too.”

Dean looked as if he was going to argue. The need to come to the defense of his beloved car was strong. But then he took a breath and seemed to consider it. The drive here had been long, without a lot of stops. Who knew what Sam had tossed onto the floor back there….

He went to the window and moved the drape aside to look out the window at the car. It really was kind of dusty; and it was still morning, so it wasn’t horribly hot out yet. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d washed the Impala at a motel. There was always a hose out back and he could either charm the ladies at the front desk or appeal to the car loving guys for permission to use it. They would usually loan him a bucket and if they didn’t he just used the trashcan from the room. He had soap and cotton cloths in the trunk.

“Did you throw your granola bar wrappers all over again?” Dean asked, turning back, letting the drape fall closed again.

Sam had started scrolling through the movie channels, slowly, considering the offerings.

“You won’t know unless you look,” he said.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. He knew what Sam was doing – dangling a distraction in front of Dean, something that would keep him busy while they waited for darkness to descend on the isolated building that was so close and yet still so much out of reach. Dean didn’t like being manipulated. On the other hand, the Impala _was_ always a good distraction and he hated it when the car wasn’t in pristine condition.

With a grunt that could have meant anything, Den grabbed the keys and stalked out the door. He missed the triumphant smirk on Sam’s face only because he knew it was there and refused to look back.

Getting permission to wash the car was easy. The guy at the desk had been looking out the window at the Impala all morning, he’d told Dean. After trading car stories for about 15 minutes - the guy had picked up a 1974 Mustang in trashed condition and was currently rebuilding it – Dean left with a bucket and the key to the hose.

Baby was in sad condition, considering that it was usually ‘car show clean’. He drove it around back, listening closely to the growling engine for anything that might indicate trouble. But the car sounded happy enough, mechanically anyway. Dean got the rags out of the trunk and the special soap he used. There was nothing too good for his baby. That meant Griott’s car wash because it was slippery enough to prevent scratches from the dirt that was already present. Dean only used soft cotton baby diapers - because growing up the disposable ones were for Sam and the ‘real’ ones were for the car and that was a tradition he liked to continue. He had loved the times when his Dad had let him go wash the car, all on his own. Sometimes Dad had rewarded him with a trip to McDonald’s and a happy meal. Sometimes the reward was a dollar, to spend on anything he wanted.

Mostly Dean had just liked being alone with the car, becoming an expert in car washing and waxing, pretending it was his; and now it really was his and he kind of wished his Dad was waiting back in the room with Sam, to take them to McDonald’s or give him a dollar.

But then he remembered that if Sam was alone in the motel room with Dad then by the time he got done washing the car, they’d be at each other’s throats. If Dad had given Dean a Happy Meal or a dollar every time he’d had to separate them from a shouting match, Dean would now be fat and rich.

Dean sighed, hooked up the hose, turned the key to get the water started, put the nozzle on shower and began to rinse dust off the Impala.

 


	70. Someone Else Every Time

It said a lot about a person’s life when a celestial being could materialize out of thin air, right beside him, and it didn’t even faze him. This time it was Raethaniel. Dean was hunkered down beside the rear passenger fender, running his thumb over a scratch that was going to need more than he had at the moment to fix.

He didn’t say anything immediately. But then he stood up and she smiled at him in greeting. Dean blinked and cleared his throat because it wasn’t the first time he’d noticed that Raeth had gotten really seriously lucky when it came to finding a willing vessel.

“I think you have the wrong brother,” he said, his voice like tires on gravel. “Sam’s inside, either watching a movie or passed out sleeping.”

“No, I wanted to talk to you. Sam is using his laptop again. I’m not sure why,” she answered.

“Okay, Dean said, uncertainly. Then, trying to hide the anxiety behind the question. “Sam all right?”

“Sam is being stalked by my long lost rebellious brother,” Raeth answered, bluntly, because no one had ever taught the angels about being politically correct or about inane polite conversation. “I’m doing the best I can to protect him from that.”

Dean regarded her for a moment and then grunted. He stood up and reached for the hose nozzle, intent on giving the car one more rinse before driving it back around front. The day was slipping into afternoon, the sun slanting its way behind the motel now. It was going to be too hot to do any more outside.

He turned on the water, spraying a soft shower over the roof of the car, only to find Raeth’s hand on his. She was warm he discovered, pleasantly warm, and her hand felt strong and capable.

“Let me do that,” she said.

“Why?” Dean asked, suspiciously, because no one did anything to Baby unless he approved it.

She just smiled again and put her hand in the stream of water. The water suddenly sparkled, liquid blue raining down on the car.

“It won’t hurt it to have a bath in holy water will it?”

“Nope, I guess not,” Dean said, handing her the nozzle and backing away. He watched as she sprayed the car with a steady mist. “So is this why you wanted to find me? To help me wash the car?”

“No, I wanted to talk to about Sam.”

“Because your brother is stalking him?”

“No,” Raeth answered, moving around to do the other side of the car. Her hand moved gracefully through the water, sending her blessing with it. “I have that under as much control as I dare.”

“How?” Dean demanded.

“He can only find Sam in his dreams and I have those blocked.”

“Isn’t that kind of dangerous? Trying to deny the King of Hell?”

“He isn’t the King of Hell,” she told him, “Not yet anyway.

Dean looked puzzled. “He’s not? Then who is?”

But Raethaniel shook her head. “I won’t give you that name. _I_ might dare to say it out loud – even the King of Hell won’t challenge the angels - but I won’t risk anyone else.” She paused to make sure that Dean understood what she was saying to him. When she was certain she went on, “But yes, it’s dangerous going up against him, thwarting what he wants. He is fiercely devoted to anyone who declares their loyalty to him.”

“And to anyone who doesn’t?” Dean wanted to know.

Raeth shrugged. “If you stay out of his way, then mostly he doesn’t care.”

Dean smirked. “Then we’re pretty much screwed, because if he comes after Sam I intend to be in his way.”

Raeth shot him a hard look, brown eyes narrowed. “While hosting my brother Michael?”

“No,” Dean said, firmly. Something in his eyes looked haunted. “That ain’t ever gonna happen.”

Raeth considered that and then nodded. Shutting off the hose she handed it back to him. The Impala glistened in the Nevada sun for a few brief seconds, holy water drying slowly.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

Raeth looked away and he could see the anxiety in her face. “He’s still thinking about it, isn’t he? Using the power he has to help these people?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, because when it came down to it, he liked the fact that the angels weren’t politically correct and could tell it like was. “He is.”

“Did you mean it when you said you would stop him?”

“Did you mean it when you said you would help me?”

“I can’t interfere with his free will. But if you stop him I won’t interfere with that either.”

Dean shook his head ruefully, looked away as he tried to fight his natural tendency to be snarky.

“So not stopping me is helping?” He asked finally.

This time when Raeth smiled there was something terrible and feral about it. Her brown eyes changed again, from vessel to angel, from human to dragon. He’d forgotten for a moment to whom – to _what_ – he was speaking.

He cleared his throat and started to dry an imaginary spot on the Impala. Without looking up he said, “Then you should know that yes, he’s still thinking about it; because that’s who Sam is. Given a choice between his own safety and someone else’s he’ll choose the ‘someone else’ every time. He wanted to be a lawyer, y’know; and he’d have been a damned good one. Great probably. But he’d have also been flat broke all the time because he’d use up all that education and all his time helping people who couldn’t afford it. One lost cause after another and he’d save every one of them. I don’t doubt it for a moment.

“So yeah, there’s almost a hundred people who are gonna die in the next two days and Sam is still thinking about how he can help them. If that means he has to defy me, you and a whole heavenly host, he won’t care. I’ll stop him the best way I can. If you can’t help me…..”

A voice from behind Dean managed to startle him. He whirled around to find Castiel.

“Raeth might not be able to help you stop Sam. But _I_ will.”

Dean gaped at him for a moment. Then he blurted out. “And why can you stop him when Raeth can’t?”

Castiel rolled his eyes and shook his head, looking 200 percent done with Dean. When he spoke it was in the same tone that doctors used with irascible patients and mothers used with reckless children.

“I’ve already rebelled. I’m already fallen. A little thing like interfering with someone’s free will can’t get me into any more trouble.”

For some reason Dean was comforted by that. He lowered his head. In fact, he bent down completely, gathering the bucket and the rags, as if that was his only intention. But, really, he just didn’t want anyone to see his face. He needed a private moment to savor the hope that gave him, knowing he had celestial help from an angel who wasn’t afraid to give it.

“Now, are you done with the car?” Cas asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said, straightening up.

He locked eyes with Castiel for a moment, couldn’t help it really. It was hard sometimes not to get drawn in by the eyes of the angels and Castiel’s were sapphire blue and more compelling than most.

“Good,” Cas said, “We need to go out to the corporate building for some basic reconnaissance.”

Dean nodded. “Let’s go get Sam,” he said.

(0)

 


	71. Wildfire

On Saturday evening, the angels took Sam and Dean to see the building and take pictures. They found blueprints online and spent most Saturday night memorizing them and formulating a plan.

The brothers slept most of Sunday with the drapes drawn against the Nevada sun and the sounds of the air conditioner cycling on and off against the heat.

On Sunday evening as dusk fell, the angels took Sam and Dean to the Board Room of GYPCO Building Products. They had hovered in the parking lot behind the concrete block enclosure for the garbage and recycling dumpsters until they were certain that the place was deserted. Then Castiel had shorted out the security cameras and when they were certain it was safe, they had gone inside. Someone would no doubt be alerted to the breakdown in security. But by the time anyone could get to the isolated location, Sam and Dean and their angel conspirators would be long gone.

It was an elegant board room – hardwood floors and a massive rectangular mahogany table, tall windows and sleek gray walls. Fortunately for them the hardwood floor was covered by a gorgeous wool rug that extended past the table and chairs. They all set to work pushing back the chairs until they were against opposite walls. Then, while the angels held the table up against the ceiling, the guys rolled the carpet out of the way.

Dean glanced up nervously when they were still only half way out from under the levitated table.

“You sure you got that thing?” He asked, because the table looked like it weighed a ton and he didn’t relish the idea of it falling on him.

Cas gave him a deeply condescending look. “I raised you out of Hell. I think I can hold up a table.”

“Dean!” Sam said in a hoarse whisper that showed the strain the dead weight of the carpet was having on him. “Can we just do this and get out of here?”

Dean gave the suspended table one more look and then began rolling up his end of the carpet again. When it was out of the way, the brothers got the cans of spray paint and went to work on ruining a perfectly good hardwood floor.

They were careful, working in quiet synchronization, each knowing exactly what part of the devil’s trap was his and which one the other would handle. When they finished it was a thing of hunter-inspired art. While it dried, they moved cautiously to a room at the end of the hall. It was the office of the Chief Executive Officer, Lyle Somers. Sam went immediately to the desk and booted up the computer. Dean started going through the filing cabinet, not sure what he was looking for, only that he would know if he found something.

Raethaniel moved over to Sam’s side, leaning down to watch what he was doing and resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Do you want help?” She asked.

Before Sam could form an answer Dean said, without looking up. “He’ll get it.”

Sam didn’t glance up but he huffed out a self-deprecating sound of denial. Dean paused in looking through a manila file to regard Sam seriously. But when Sam ignored him, Dean rolled his eyes, shook his head and then winked at Raethaniel. She blinked back in return, looking confused.

“Ignore him,” Sam said, almost under his breath. It did nothing to help Raeth’s discomposure. She pressed her hand down onto his shoulder and waited while he bent technology to his (considerable) will. At last he said, quietly. “I’m in.”

Dean gave a snort of satisfaction. “Into the email?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, distractedly, typing efficiently, eyes riveted to the screen. “There’s a group account for the Board, doesn’t include Callahan. They’ve all been informed of an emergency meeting at 8am tomorrow morning. That should coincide with the mine opening for work.” He paused to hit ‘send’ with a grim and determined look on his face and then sat back, finally looking up at everyone else.

“And Callahan?” Dean asked.

“He has an 8am meeting with… well, us,” Sam said. “I called and scheduled that Friday afternoon.”

“So I guess his office is the next stop,” Dean said, slamming a file drawer after not finding anything of interest. “You and Raeth can take care of that. Cas and I will go put the rug and furniture back in the Board room.”

Sam shut down the computer and wiped his prints off it with a tissue from a box hidden under an intricately carved cover. To be safe he stuffed the tissue on his pocket.

“Okay,” he agreed, because the chance to be alone with Raeth sounded really good at the moment. Shored up at the moment by the reminder that Dean believed in him, knew how good he was, and needed him as part of the team, Sam also wanted to remember that he had an angel on his side as well.

They left the office and the two groups separated. Callahan’s office was down the hall from the CEO’s. It wasn’t as spacious but, like all the other offices, it had a nondescript dark brown carpet. Sam shut the door softly and they left the harsh overhead lights out, working in the filtered security lighting.

Raeth produced another small pitcher of holy oil and handed it quickly to Sam, as if even a drop would hurt if it spilled on her. Sam tilted it just enough for a thin stream to fall and began moving in a particular pattern, slowly and precisely, drawing a devil’s trap.

“Are you sure this will work?” He asked.

“Belial is a demon angel. We’re definitely certain that a traditional devil’s trap won’t hold him. But one drawn in holy oil and lit with holy fire should be enough,” she answered, watching him work.

Sam paused. He was working slowly, because, while he had been taught to draw a perfect circle and a perfect devil’s trap, he was not used to working with oil as a medium.

“Should be?” He repeated, eyebrows arched. His eyes were dark and fathomless in the diminished light, but Raeth could see the concern in them.

“You won’t have to hold him for long,” Raeth answered.

“The angels won’t be able to step inside the circle of holy fire,” Sam reminded her. “This is going to be up to me and Dean and we all know it, and Dean is going to be flipped out about me being that close to so much powerful demon blood. So, really, it’s going to be up to me to keep my act together and get this done.”

“Are _you_ worried about being that close to so much demon blood?”

“Yes,” he answered, honestly, brutally. Then he took a deep breath and went back to what he was doing. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course.”

Without looking at her, Sam asked, “Why do archangels as power as Michael and Lucifer need vessels to fight this final battle? Why not just fight it out in their trueforms?”

Raeth responded in a voice that sent a shiver up Sam’s spine. “They’re too powerful. They’d destroy everything, in whatever dimension they were in. There would be nothing left of the Earth. There would be nothing left of that which they are fighting for in the first place.”

“Just like there will be nothing left of me or Dean if we say yes,” Sam surmised grimly.

“You’re not going to say yes,” Raeth reminded him, sounding a little anxious. “Billions of people will die if you do. There has to be another way to stop this. My father never set anything in stone, everything is fluid, everything is up to humanity and the choices they make. There _is_ a way, Sam. We just have to find it.”

“It’s hard to look for another way when all we do is run around putting out wildfires, one after the other.”

Raeth didn’t tell him that she, for one, was amazed and grateful and humbled by the Winchester willingness to step into whatever wildfire appeared in their path. Instead she reminded him,

“We aren’t the only ones looking. You’re not alone.”

Sam didn’t say anything else as he finished the trap. The oil was soaking into the carpet and vanishing, leaving no trace behind. He assumed it was a property of the holy oil.

Then he stood up, feet braced, shoulders squared. A fire kindled in his eyes. Standing that way he looked as certain and inflexible as stone. “I’m not alone as long as Dean’s alive,” he said, and Raethaniel knew it was true.

No matter how bitterly the brother’s might fight with each other, they would always unite against an outside enemy; and they would each die before letting anything happen to the other.

Going into a war against a demon-angel who commanded an army of many legions, it was their greatest and best defense.


	72. Belial is Coming

They arrived for their meeting at 7:30, dressed in their best FBI suits and carrying ID from a company that was doing business with GYPCO building a shopping mall. Sam had told the person on the other end of the phone that they had some problems with the legal content of the contract and wanted to go over it one more time. They walked through the glass doors into the private office suite – the same doors they had sneaked through the previous night – and were greeted by an efficient looking young man with slicked-back dirty blond hair, round glasses and a sharply pressed navy blue suit. There was no name plate on the desk to identify him.

They flashed their ID and the kid waved at a couple of standard looking chairs and told them to wait. He was expecting Callahan any minute.

Like all office furniture the chairs were uncomfortable. Dean grimaced as he tried to get comfortable. Like all furniture everywhere it was too small for Sam, so he slouched and put his legs as far out in front of him as he could. Dean gave him a sympathetic look but Sam was staring hard at the kid at the desk, who was efficiently typing into his computer and looking at the screen.

Dean nudged Sam’s leg with his foot. When Sam glanced back, Dean gave him the ‘ _what the hell’_ conversational look. Neither of them was happy about waiting in the outer office. The entire mission depended on taking Belial unaware, since he couldn’t detect them. Sam didn’t give any indication of an answer in return. He just leaned forward to look down the deserted hallway and then back at the kid. Softly, under his breath, Sam began to chant,

“Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino qui fertis super caelum caeli ad Orientem Ecce dabit voci Suae vocem virtutis, tribuite virtutem Deo.”

Dean put his hand on Sam’s arm to stop him, but then he saw the guy flinch, pause in what he was doing and when Sam repeated it, in latin, ( _Kingdoms of the Earth, sing unto God, Praises to the Lord that carry above the sky of heaven to the East. Behold, He sends forth His Own Voice, the Voice of Virtue. Attribute the Virtue to God_ ) the kids began to twitch and finally to snarl and his eye rolled flat black in his head.

Dean sat bolt upright, his hand reaching for Ruby’s knife. Sam sat up too, pulling out all the stops. He raised his voice and chanted the entire exorcism.

“ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare. Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos. Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris, te rogamus, audi nos. Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae te rogamus, audi nos. Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo. Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem et fortitudinem plebi Suae. Benedictus Deus. Gloria Patri.”_

Before he was halfway through, the guy was writing in his seat and howling in agony, screaming curses back at Sam in latin. Dean got out of the chair and ran towards him as Sam was finishing. On the last two lines of the exorcism, black smoke came pouring out of his mouth in a horrible rush, headed for a vent in the ceiling and vanished. Dean got there as the kid slumped over.

It was obvious that his neck was broken. Dean checked for vital signs and then looked grimly at Sam and shook his head.

“Damn it,” Sam said, looking frustrated and ….. _guilty_ , which made Dean want to punch him.

“They’re _all_ going to be dead, Sam,” Dean growled at him. “The angels already told you that. Something this big, it’s not going to go down any other way. So are you going to sit there wishing you were still hulked out on demon blood or are you going to help me hide this body before Callahan shows up?”

Sam still looked sick and angry. His shoulders were rising and falling as he took long, deep breaths, a sure sign that he was seething.

“Sam,” Dean said, anxious and wary and pissed off.

“That’s someone’s son, maybe brother,” Sam said, through clenched teeth, “and I had to kill him.”

“ _You_ didn’t kill him,” Dean pointed out.

“I couldn’t _save_ him either.”

“Then quit standing there wishing you were hulked out on demon blood and get mad at the demons who are doing this to them,” Dean snapped at him, “Get in this fight to save them, even if all we can do is send that towards that big glowy light.”

Dean never got an answer from Sam, though the conversation seemed to be heading for an epic brother fight. At that moment, Castiel appeared from the air.

“What have you done?” He asked, looking at the body in the chair.

“Got rid of a demon that could possibly come to help Callahan. Sam did the whole exorcism. That thing should be back in Hell by now.”

“Possibly, Hell is a tricky place to get in and out of,” Cas growled. “The chances are that it’s heading for the Board Room to warn them.”

Dean glanced at the clock. “This shouldn’t take much longer. Are you in place in the Board Room?”

“Yes, Mecha and Raeth are there and Emmanuel from the Seventh Heaven as well.”

“Do you trust him?” Sam asked.

“He is here at Raeth’s request and she trusts him. His presence is appreciated. He is a powerful angel who directly serves our Father.”

The mention of Raeth’s name seemed to be enough for Sam. He started to say something else, but Cas cut him off.

“Belial is coming. Go. Wait in the office for him. He won’t know you’re there. I’ll take care of the body.”

Sam stalked off to the door of the main office, where the special devil’s trap waited for them. He walked through, leaving it open for Dean. But Dean was stopped by Cas.

“Dean!”

“What?” He asked, turning back.

The angel’s eyes were narrowed and hard.

“Are the two of you all right?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered, waving a dismissive hand. “Too much downtime makes us itchy; and we take it out on each other. He freaks me out when he does stuff like that – when something is so obvious to him and I don’t see it at all. He knew that kid was a demon. But yeah, we’re okay. Hunting, we can do that together in our sleep.”

“Make sure it is,” Cas said and then he vanished with the sound of wings, taking the broken corpse of the hapless executive assistant with him.

Dean ducked into the inner office as the elevator chimed, announcing the arrival of Belial.


	73. Lucifer's Mirror

The vessel the demon-angel was currently possessing was a middle-aged man in good physical health, hefty but not overly so, brown hair showing sprinklings of grey, dark eyes. There was nothing particularly striking about him. Sam and Dean had studied his picture hard enough to recognize Belial in the guise of Richard Callahan the moment he came through the door.

They heard him first, calling for his assistant and getting increasingly irritated when he didn’t receive a response. Other voices mingled with his as the Board of Directors met in response to an email about an emergency meeting.

Sam strategically positioned himself to the left side of the room, hoping to draw Belial’s attention, with Dean lurking in the corner so that he would be hidden when the door opened.

It was clear that Belial was distracted, annoyed and certainly not expecting to see someone standing in his office. He stopped, his hand still on the door handle, blinking in confusion for a moment. Then his lips curled into a nasty smile. His eyes flashed a momentary startling iridescent blue that flared into a sickly flickering orange.

“ _You_.” His voice was a hiss, startled but satisfied. “My master has been looking for you.”

“I’m sure he has,” Sam answered.

Belial was still standing outside the circle of oil. Sam tried retreating a step to see if he could get the demon to follow him. It seemed like less than a few inches separated Belial from his trap. But the demon didn’t move. Instead he observed Sam warily and then did something shocking.

“Where there is one Winchester,” he said, spinning around to face Dean, “there is _always_ another.”

The demon waved his elegant hand and Dean was thrown back against the wall as if he had been hit with canon fire. His head struck the wall and he crumbled to the ground with a sickening snap of bone. He didn’t cry out, but he did bellow in rage and agony. The lighter fell from his hand and dropped to the carpet just out of his reach.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, starting forward.

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t kill him,” Belial said, “I don’t dare kill Michael’s sword; not any more than I dare to damage Lucifer’s mirror. But I can hold you both here until Lucifer can be contacted.”

Sam’s eyes flared. The angel blade was in Sam’s hand, slipping down from the sheath he had made in his sleeve, before he was even aware of it. He closed with Belial, his blade in the outer circle, sweeping in for a high strike. Perhaps it was his training, perhaps it was his psychic abilities igniting in the heat of anger, but he knew that Belial was carrying a demon blade and he knew exactly how it was coming towards him – high and right, looking for the opportunity to plunge itself into Sam’s gut. He blocked it and drove it up with all strength he possessed. The blades hissed and sawed against each other for a moment, until Belial spun around, leapt and came down behind Sam.

They moved around each other in a deadly dance. Sam never let Belial get close to making him defend in the inner circle. It was clear the demon had not been expecting an angel blade. Belial made another motion with his hand that sent the name plate from his desk flying through the air at Sam’s head. He ducked and it hit the wall, carving out a chunk of plaster before hitting the floor.

Sam was aware of Dean shouting for Castiel. He broke back from Belial, studying his opponent. He had to switch their position, since at the moment, Sam was standing in the trap. His eyes locked with his enemy. He twirled the angel blade through his fingers as effortlessly as if it were a fountain pen. The sudden fear in the demon’s eyes brought a grim smile to Sam’s face.

He closed once more but instead of engaging he spun away at the last minute, coming round behind Belial and forcing him backwards into the trap. They met at last in the inner ring, blades screaming against each other, held between their chests.

“Sam!” Dean shouted. He’d pushed himself sideways and gotten his fingers around the lighter.

Sam reached out a hand, knowing exactly where the lighter would be before Dean had even thrown it. As children they had played catch with virtually anything and everything, until they could read each other’s intention in the flick of a wrist. His left hand closed around the thin piece of metal and plastic just as his right hand drove the angel blade forward. Belial evaded the full deadly force of it but it caught him in a long slice across his torso and hip.

Sam didn’t take the time to attempt another attack. He hit the lighter and dropped it into the carpet. The igniting flames licked at the hem of his jeans and scorched the bottom of his boots as he jumped over them. Belial let out a high and loud keen, screaming in agony as the devil’s trap burst into flames. It settled into a scorched pattern with only the deadly circle of holy fire still burning brightly. Seething, blood pouring from the angel blade inflicted wound in a stream of thick, black liquid, Belial began to chant.

It took Sam no time at all to understand the chant. It was designed to summon Lucifer. Sam shouted ‘NO!” Dean let out one more furious, frustrated howl for Castiel. Around them alarms were starting to go off. Chaotic noises could be heard coming from down the hall, from the Board Room.

Just as Sam was preparing to leap back into the flaming circle, Castiel appeared behind Belial. Everything about him glowed in iridescent sapphire. He raised his angel blade and brought it down into the back of Belial’s neck, plunging it forward and down until the hilt was buried in his back and the point was protruding from beneath his ribs. The demon convulsed, trembled and then froze for a split second before collapsing. Castiel put a hand on Belial’s shoulder and shoved him forward into the holy fire, pulling his dripping angel blade back as he did. The demon hit the flames and vanished into ashes.

Chaos still reigned around them. Alarms were still sounding. But the angel and the Winchesters just stood for a moment. The boys were breathing hard. There was a bleeding cut on Sam’s arm from a wound he didn’t remember ever receiving. Dean’s face was gray and he had fallen onto his side with his eyes closed in pain.

Castiel’s eyes narrowed to sapphire slits.

“Can. The two of you. _Ever_. Do _anything_. QUIETLY?” The angel asked, through clenched teeth.

“Is he dead?” Dean asked, from the floor, eyes still tight closed, breath coming from between his clenched teeth. “Is Belial dead?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered, shortly. Then he gestured at the flames and looked askance at Sam. “You think you could let me out of here so that, I could, perhaps, heal your brother and go back to the other fight?”

Sam had been staring at the blood dripping from Castiel’s blade, the same blood dripping from his own, down over his hand in a dark, sticky line. The blood of a demon-angel. Massive amounts of adrenaline were still coursing through him, ruling his thoughts and demanding action.

The blood was a deceptively seductive little bitch. It whispered to him about what a worthless, pitiable, foolish, useless thing he was with it. How powerful and mighty he is with it, how no one dared to mock someone with the power she could give him.

_Come to me and I will make you pure again. I will give you purpose….._

He lifted the blade in his hand and watched a trickle of blood travel slowly over his finger. It would be so easy to put it in his mouth, lick it away….

“Sam!” Castiel shouted, warningly, angry.

But it was Dean’s voice that stopped Sam.

“Sammy,” he said, quietly. “Put it down, bro. Sam. I can’t move my leg. Put down the knife and get the fire extinguisher. Let Cas out so he can help. Sammy. Come on. Put it down, brother.”

Dean’s voice broke into the nightmare, just as it had so many times in their childhood. Sam stopped staring at the sensual flow of drying blood and looked at Dean.

“Yeah,” he blurted, shaking himself out of the trance. Hand shaking he put the blade down on the desk and pulled the extinguisher from the case on the wall. Pointing it at the flames, he triggered it until it was gone and Castiel could step free.

Cas went to Dean and laid his hand on the side of Dean’s face. Between one breath and the next, the pain disappeared and Dean was able to stand. Sam watched anxiously until he knew that Dean was fine, until Dean stopped clinging to Castiel and stood on his own two feet.

When Sam glanced at the blade again, it was clean. He let out a long sigh of relief. Dean crossed the floor and got him by the shoulders, hands fisted into Sam’s shirt.

“You with me?” He asked, “Sam!”

“Yeah,” Sam said, again, actively pulling himself together.

“Get out of here, both of you,” Castiel said, “That’s an _order.”_

The angel evaporated, presumably returning to the Board Room. A glance the door showed people running for elevators and stairwells. Some of them had flat black eyes.

Sam and Dean shared a meaningful look.

“Cas said to get out,” Sam reminded him.

“Since when did either of us take orders from angels?” Dean asked.

“Right,” Sam agreed.

But even as they bolted out the door in pursuit of deadly danger, Dean wondered at the wisdom of plunging his brother back into a bath of demon blood.


	74. Not This Battle

They waded into the battle that was already joined and bloody. Since it was still very early on a Monday morning, there were not many people in the building, fortunately; and the demons, infuriated by the loss of their leader, were more than ready to make themselves known. They boiled out of elevators and stairwells, office doors and hallways like a nest of disturbed vipers. Dean tried to stay close to Sam but fights like this never seemed to allow for that. Sam was normally gentle, kind, content to do research and use his powers of deduction in their hunts. But when it came to hunting, Sam was a predator in search of prey, watching to be certain that it didn’t find him in sufficient quantities to kill him first. This prey was particularly deadly to Sam, so Dean did the best he could to watch out for him. It was also quickly apparent that Sam had gained some mad skills with the angel blade. It seemed that Sam had been getting more exercise with Raeth than just between the sheets. So he left Sam to his own devices and fought with an angel blade in one hand and Ruby’s knife in the other.

He was relieved when Raeth rushed out into the hallway, saw Sam and began to move to his side through the fray. Like all the angels, she was glowing like an aquamarine gemstone.

Then Dean was distracted by a man in a custodian’s uniform who was roughly the size of a bull, barreling towards him with his arms curved out like horns, looking to catch him and grapple Dean to the ground. Dean didn’t feel inclined to play along.

He let the demon come in close and then reached out to grab the front of his jumpsuit and used his own momentum to hauled him forward. Rolling backwards, Dean placed a booted foot in the guy’s gut. As he rocked back onto his spine, he lifted the guy high in the air and pitched him into the air, using his own momentum to slam him into the far wall.

Whirling, Dean plunged the demon knife into the custodian’s chest and yanked it free as the demon tried to rise, failed and then slumped over dead.

Dean turned just as Sam was landing a roundhouse punch into the face of a man in a business suit. It shattered the bone in the man’s nose and Dean winced, because he knew what it felt like to run into the wrong end of Sam’s fist. The man staggered backward and Sam ended his existence with a downward strike of his angel blade.

The blade was bloody when Sam drew it back and Dean took an anxious step towards him. Raeth got to him first but by the time she did the blade was clean again and Sam was working on his next opponent. Angel blade raised, Raeth stepped in beside him to engage with a pair of demons coming through an opening elevator door.

The fighting may have continued for another hour or another day. Time had no meaning in that kind of battle.

When it was finally done, the angels and the two humans were the only ones still standing – not unscathed, but still upright. Lamechiel and Emmanuel – whose vessel was a young dark-haired woman wearing a UCLA sweatshirt – moved through the fallen bodies, making certain that the demons were gone.

Dean was becoming aware of all the places on his body that were starting to sting and burn. He was almost certain his little finger was broken. The walls around them were painted with demon blood and Dean was also painfully aware of the glazed, glassy look in Sam’s eyes. Sam was cut in a dozen places, bleeding from his lip and various shallow slices on his arms and cheek. Raeth touched Sam gently and the wounds disappeared. It didn’t change his expression at all.

“Sam,” she said, gently, trying to draw his attention.

It worked, in a way. Sam stopped gazing with longing at the blood dripping down the wall and turned to look at Raeth.

“It’s over,” Raeth said, “We need to go,”

“The battle in the mine?” Sam asked.

“Still raging,” Emmanuel said, “and it is no place for two humans.”

“But if you let me-“ Sam began. But Castiel cut him off.

“No, Sam,” Castiel said in a voice that sounded as if it had been dragged over hot coals. “No. Not now.”

The qualifier got Sam’s attention. He looked at Cas in puzzlement. Castiel moved in closer and put his right hand on Sam’s right shoulder.

“Sam, listen to me,” the angel said. “You may be the most powerful weapon against demons that the world has ever known. But it’s not worth the cost of possibly losing you, not today, not in this battle. The angels can handle this one.” To Raeth he said, “Take them back to the motel. Join us at the mine as soon as you can.”

Raeth nodded. Dean opened his mouth to protest vehemently but before he could draw breath to utter a sound, he was back in their room with Sam.

“Stay here,” Raeth said. To Dean she said, “Make sure he stays here.”

Dean nodded. Just before she disappeared, Raeth touched her fingers to Dean’s forehead, repairing his battle wounds and relieving his fatigue.

The brothers stared at each other for a moment longer. Sam’s frustration was apparent but so was his resignation. He had been out maneuvered by angels and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

“So what do we do now?” He asked.

“I don’t know about you,” Dean said, “But I’m going to go get drunk.”

“Dude,” Sam said, looking away in irritation. “It’s not even noon.”

“So?” Dean asked, “We just helped to slam shut a hell’s gate and killed one of the most powerful demons around. I need a drink. If we can’t find an open bar, I bet there’s a liquor store.”

Sam appeared to consider that for a split second and then nodded. “I’ll change my clothes and go with you.”

Less than ten minutes later, the Winchesters had changed out of their bloodied clothes and into something clean, gathered the rest of their laundry into a big black garbage bag and tossed it into the back of the Impala.

Dean started the engine and they left the motel parking lot in a hail of gravel.


	75. The World Can End Without Me

They bought a cold six pack at a convenience store and drank it in the car while waiting for their laundry to finish. There was one beer left in the cooler when they went back in to fold the clothes, since Sam wasn’t as bent on getting drunk as Dean was. Besides, one of them should still be able to drive safely. The laundromat was almost deserted that early in the morning, since most people were at work. There was one other guy but he had been nearly finished when Sam and Dean got there. So by the time they were folding jeans, plain t-shirts and plaid shirts, they had the laundromat to themselves.

They put everything back into duffle bags and were putting them in the trunk when they felt the ground shake. The Impala trembled and the glass in the laundromat windows rattled. Dean clutched the open trunk and held on. Sam steadied himself against the rear door, hands flat on the roof while the world rippled and shook.

When it finally died down, Dean, who had been through so many supernatural phenomenon in his life that he could no longer think inside the box, said, “Angels?”

Sam shook his head. “Earthquake,” he decided.

People were coming out of the surrounding stores, looking up and down the street as if they were expecting to see a huge truck convoy or anything else that might explain the shaking. Voices murmured nervously.

“In Nevada?” Dean asked, slamming the trunk.

Sam shrugged. “Nevada has a comprehensive network of extensional fault lines that come in from California. Earthquakes happen all over Nevada.”

Dean scowled at him. “How do you know that?”

“I took geology as an elective,” Sam answered.

“So you think we just had an earthquake?” Dean still sounded skeptical, as if something nefariously unnatural was trying to put something over on him.

Sam didn’t answer until they were both sitting in the front seat of the car and Dean was pulling out onto the two lane road.

“I think,” he said, slowly, “That an earthquake is a really good cover story for a massacre in a mine.”

Dean shot him a look that was more conversational than alarmed or questioning, as if that was the answer he had been seeking. He shifted in the driver’s seat and stared resolutely out the windshield after that.

A little bit later they passed a sports tavern that was open for lunch.

“You hungry?” Dean asked. He spared a sideways glance that was supposed to look nonchalant but Sam could see the anxiety furrowing Dean’s brown.

Sam hesitated. He knew there were two ways Dean dealt with stress – one was to eat. The other was to take care of Sam – and usually included making sure that Sam ate too. So, while he wasn’t really all that hungry and probably wouldn’t be until they heard from Castiel or Raethaniel or someone about what had gone down at the mine, Dean needed food, more beer, something loud on a TV and hopefully either someone to hustle at pool or a girl open to being seriously hit on.

And Dean didn’t know this, but Sam also handled stress by taking care of his brother.

“I could eat,” Sam answered.

Dean nodded and turned into the tavern parking lot.

(0)

The lunch crowd was sparse since it was still early and they were all speaking in hushed tones about the earthquake. The soccer game that had been showing on all the giant flat screens around the room had been interrupted by the news. Apparently there had been a 6.0 quake. The epicenter was 12 miles north of Las Vegas, under the Sunrise Mountains. The area was not heavily populated but there was an office building and a working mine. Rescue vehicles were currently on route. A helicopter shot showed a swarm of ambulances and fire trucks speeding past the big sign announcing that the road they were traveling was private.

Sam and Dean paused in the doorway, watching the screen with just as much riveted attention as everyone else. When the announcer said, “in other news….” They turned away. The guy at the bar gestured for them to sit anywhere, so they picked a corner booth behind a high partition with an unobstructed view of one of the TVs.

The girl who came to be their server was a pretty blond with blue-gray eyes wearing a Western Governors University t-shirt, a tight pair of black pants with a black apron tied around her hips. Her red name tag read Amber.

“Crazy, huh?” She said, without the usual preamble of how she was Amber and she’d be their server. “Lived here all my life and never felt an earthquake ‘til today. I hope everything is okay at the mine though.” Then she seemed to focus on them for the first time, took note that they were two good-looking guys and immediately flashed a perky smile. She handed them oversized laminated menus that were printed front and back. “What can I get you guys? Drinks to start?”

“Two beers to start,” Dean said, already in dazzlingly charming mode. Sam would have laughed at him in any other circumstances. Pretty girls made Dean light up like the sun and always provided him with a good distraction for the less savory aspects of their work. Even with the world ending, Dean was going to notice when a pretty blond flashed lovely eyes in his direction. “What do you have on tap?”

Amber eyed him up and down in a flirtatious way and said, “We’ve got a Sam Adams Noble Pilsner that I think you’d just love.”

“Okay then, two of those,” Dean smiled, “and a giant basket of fries while we decide.”

“The fries are bottomless,” Amber pointed out.

Dean’s smile was all boyish enthusiasm. “Then let’s get that started.”

Sam spoke up quickly, “Do you have like, a bowl of fruit? Fresh?”

She gave him a speculative look and said, “I can get the cook to cut up some apples and melon and I think we have grapes.”

“Great,” Sam said, “That would be awesome. Thanks.”

Dean rolled his eyes and said to Amber in a sarcastic, whispered aside, “His body is a temple.”

Amber didn’t go along with Dean’s dismissive sarcasm though. She swept Sam’s long muscular frame up and down with an appreciative gaze, lingered on the sculpted biceps showing under this short sleeve shirt and said, “I can see that. Be right back,” and strolled off to get their order.

Sam watched her walk away and then turned back to see Dean glaring at him.

“What?” Sam asked.

“I saw her first,” Dean replied.

Sam resisted sighing. “Dude, we both saw her at the same time, when she came over to the table. Besides, be my guest. Take your best shot.” Then he went back to scanning the menu.

Dean continued to watch Sam for a moment longer. Then he grunted and looked at his own menu. “Okay. I guess you have the angel now anyway, huh?”

Sam put the menu down and started to snap. “I don’t _have_ Raeth. She’s not a toy, Dean.” Then he stopped speaking abruptly as Amber returned bearing a tray with two mugs of beer, a basket of fries and a plate of cut up fruit for Sam. By the time they had gotten done smiling and thanking her, Sam was over it. Trying to explain his complicated relationship with Raethaniel to Dean would be like trying to explain skateboards to fish.

Dean ordered a Philly cheesesteak with the works and Sam ordered the blackened salmon with a side salad. Amber took the menus and walked away. Sam dug into the fruit plate, starting with the cantaloupe, while Dean poured ketchup on the fries.

It was almost as if everything was normal – as normal as it ever was for them anyway. But then the news broke into the game again and this time was a riveting as the last. A young news reporter was standing on a rise with the destruction of the mine blatant behind him. Emergency vehicles were parked with lights flashing and uniformed fire fighters, police and paramedics milled around helplessly. The entrance to the Gypsum Cave Mine was completely collapsed. In fact the entire front face of the mine entrance was gone, buried under a ton of rock that had once been a small peak in the Sunrise Mountains. Any rescue would take weeks of round the clock work if even attempted. As for the corporate headquarters, all three stories had collapsed, pancaked down on each other, crushing everything inside. Faulty building codes and the structure not being earthquake ready were being blamed.

Sam and Dean stopped watching when the reporter started interviewing the fire chief about the possibility of a rescue.

“I guess they did it,” Sam said, quietly.

“Closed off a portal to hell?” Dean said, “Yeah, I’d say they did.”

“So what now?” Sam asked, spearing a slice of apple with more zest than really necessary.

Dean shrugged. “We wait for the angels. If we don’t hear from them, we move on. Look for a case, or another sign of the apocalypse somewhere. In the meantime, I am still pretty intent on getting as wasted as humanly possible. The world can end without me for one night.”

Sam glanced at him, but Dean was intent on his basket of fries. Sam didn’t want to talk about it anymore and he didn’t want to voice any more of his fears. He understood that Raeth, and Castiel, were angels and they could handle themselves against demons. But it had to have been a bloody battle and anything could happen. It would have only taken a few angels who weren’t on their side but had insinuated themselves into the fight and then it was possible that angel on angel violence had occurred.

He decided to follow Dean’s lead and eat and drink himself into oblivion and wait for Raethaniel to come back to him.


	76. Happy! Drunk Sammy

Raethaniel received the call from Castiel on a sharply narrow spear thread.

“ _I found them._ ”

Raeth’s relief was heartfelt and sincere. The boys had not answered any of their attempted phone calls. She unfurled her wings and flew to Castiel’s side. He was standing beside the Impala in the parking lot of the East End Bar and Grill. They had – separately and together – attempted to convince Sam and Dean that the car was a weakness. Anyone looking for them could find them just by locating the very distinctive auto. But even Sam had refused to listen, though he blamed it on Dean’s devotion to it. Dean just glared at them in a way that should have burned a hole straight on through and then asked “Are we done?” Then he would walk away.

It took Raeth a little while but she finally came to understand that the Impala was the only link to the family they’d lost and the only constant thing their childhood had ever known.

The car was in a spot very close to the front door and the parking lot was very full. So the boys had either gotten very lucky in finding a space or they had been here for a long time.

“Are they inside?” Raeth asked.

“I assume so. Should we go check?” Cas asked.

“If we don’t go check it defeats the purpose of looking for them for the last two hours. Doesn’t it?” Raeth countered.

Cas pushed himself upright off the Impala and nodded.

“Though I suspect we’re going to find them both considerably inebriated.”

“Drunk?”

Cas pulled the front door open for her and as she walked passed him into the bar he said, “Plastered.”

The place was packed with people. A girl with a brunette ponytail wearing the restaurant uniform and a name tag that said Mindy greeted them with a smile and asked if they wanted to sit at the bar.

“Actually, we’re looking for friends of ours,” Castiel said, raising his voice over the din of people talking and the TVs blaring. “Their car is parked out front.”

“Really tall guy, long dark hair, great eyes, looks like a body builder?” Raeth prompted.

Mindy brightened. “Oh you mean Sam? Has a brother Dean?”

“Yes,” Raeth said, suspiciously.

“Oh he’s in the game room. Come on. I’ll take you to him.”

Raeth looked at Cas and mouthed, ‘the game room’ with a question in her eyes. But Cas could only shrug.

They followed Mindy through an open double door into a more brightly lit and very noisy room. There were two busy pool tables, a hockey foosball and a football one (both occupied), and an air hockey table. TVs lined one wall and against the other wall was a few dart boards. Sam was never hard to pick out. He was almost always taller than anyone else in the room, so Raeth saw him instantly. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was slightly tousled (as it often was after they’d spent time rolling around in motel sheets together.) He was laughing and being a little loud and he was also hitting the center target of the dart board with every throw. There was a crowd of people around the dart board at the far end, in the corner. Sam was in the middle of that crowd.

Mindy gestured towards Sam as if Raeth and Cas didn’t wouldn’t have recognized him by now and then said, “Let one of the servers know if you want anything,” before she left them.

Raeth leaned over and asked Cas, “Is he drunk?”

“He appears to be,” Cas agreed.

“But he’s still hitting the target,” Raeth pointed out.

Cas sighed. “He’s still Sam Winchester.”

They waded forward through the crowd until they got closer and Raeth called out to Sam.

Sam landed his thrown dart dead center in spite of spinning around when he heard his name. His expression split into a huge, goofy grin and he plowed through the people standing between them until he got to her.

“Raeth!” He said, happily.

He swept her up into an overwhelming, smothering hug, lifting her feet off the floor. Had Raeth needed to breathe it would have been impossible. She was crushed against his chest. Instinctively she put her arms around his neck and let out a little squeak of dismay.

“Sam, put me down,” she said.

But he didn’t. He turned his face into her hair and said, “I’m so glad you’re safe. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I did!” She said, wiggling, “Are you drunk? Put me down.”

Sam shook his head and affected a solemn expression. “Oh, honey,” he said, a little sadly, “I passed drunk hours ago. What I am now is utterly and completely shit-faced. You tried to call? Oh, wait, yeah. My phone is dead.”

She struggled up from out of his arms and looked at him. He was holding her so far off the floor she was almost at eye level.

“How much have you had to drink? Put me down.”

“I don’t know,” Sam laughed, “Gallons? Is there a bigger measurement than gallons? Liters maybe? Beer mostly, some whiskey shots, pretty sure there was tequila at some point; and it feels ahh-mazing.”

Another guy spoke up, words slurred. “Yeah, we’ve never seen anyone that drunk who can still hit that dart board, much less dead center, every time.”

A dozen glasses of beer were lifted into the air.

“Sam!” The crowd cheered.

Sam grinned back at them and then nuzzled Raeth again. “You smell really good, like flowers or something.”

“Okay,” Raeth said, “Sam, put me down.”

Sam finally complied, spotting Castiel as he set her back on her feet.

“Cas!” He burst out and then swamped the other angel in a similarly expansive hug, but without picking him up.

Castiel grunted and extracted himself from the exuberant gesture, straightening his trench coat and ruffled tie. For some reason, Sam ruffled Cas’s hair and then turned back to sweep Raeth up again.

A guy from the group that had been surrounding Sam at the dart board hollered,

“Hey, Sam! Is that your girlfriend? The one you’ve been telling us about?”

“No.” Sam said, rubbing his cheek on the top of her head like a contented cat, “She’s my angel.”

The guys all groaned and the girls all went “awwwww.” Castiel rolled his eyes.

“No, really!” Sam protested, “She’s my guardian angel.”

It prompted laughter from the group and some further groaning from the guys.

“You’re making us look bad, Sam,” one of them said.

“You told them about me?” Raeth asked, startled.

Sam just grinned at her. But one of the other guys in the crowd said loudly, “Oh hell yeah. He’s had chicks all over him all night but he kept saying he had a girl.”

Raeth frowned in confusion. “You had baby birds on you?”

Sam laughed and squeezed her tight. “No. No baby birds. Girls. But none of them were my angel.”

Raeth patted Sam on the back and extracted herself from his clingy embrace. “Yes, well,” she said, “Your angel is here to take you home.”

“Sam,” Cas interrupted. “Where is Dean?”

Sam made an overly dramatic gesture in the direction of another large open door into a room just off the game room.

“Dean,” he said, with exaggerated solemnness, annunciating each word carefully, as if he had to think to speak, “is in _that_ room and I am _not_ going in that room.”

Castiel looked alarmed. “Why? Is it another den of iniquity?”

Sam frowned in confusion. “A what? Umm, no, I don’t think so. When were you in a den of iniquity with Dean? NO! Wait. I don’t want to know. Dean went in that room to play the slot machines but the last time I checked on him he was….” Sam stopped and swallowed and then said in a choked whisper, “singing karaoke.”

“Singing?” Cas said.

“Yeah,” Sam’s eyes were wide. “Don’t get me wrong, when Dean decides to sing he’s really good at it. But he only does it when he’s pretty drunk and he’s pretty drunk. I’m not sure he even knows what he’s singing.”

Castiel looked at the opening into the other room as if it was a new battlefield. His eyes narrowed and he squared his shoulders, standing a little straighter. Raeth was staring at Sam, wondering what could possibly be so bad about ‘karaoke’ that it made Sam Winchester tremble in fear.

“I’ll go get him,” Cas said, gruffly.

“Good luck.” Sam was nodding gravely, as if Castiel was about to do something very brave.

He kept his eyes glued to the doorway after Castiel disappeared. He had gone from looking flushed and giddy to being overly anxious, as if Cas was undertaking another attempt to raise Dean from perdition. He was standing pitched forward on his toes, hands balled in loose fists.

“Sam,” Raeth said, “Why didn’t you charge your phone? You know it’s the only way I have to find you now.”

He glanced down at her quickly and then went back to watching the door for the return of his brother. There was something furtive and guilty in his eyes. But he was honest to a fault, as always.

“Maybe I didn’t want to be found,” he said, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

Raeth felt a momentary pang because she had been very relieved to find him. “Do you want me to leave you here?”

Sam turned towards her in alarm. “No! I’m glad you’re here!” He took her hand and held it tight, bringing it up to press against his cheek for a moment before squeezing it and letting her go. “Don’t leave. Don’t go without me. Come back to the hotel with me?”

“All right,” she said, because he sounded as if he was on the verge of getting very loud.

Then Castiel came out of the other room, hauling a stumbling Dean by the arm.

“All right, all right,” Dean grumbled, “Hands off. I’m coming.”

“Dean!” Sam cried out, giddy once again. He waded off through the crowd of people, parting them with his sheer size and clueless focus on anything but his brother. He crashed into Dean and seized him in a bone cracking hug that knocked the wind out of Dean.

Recovering quickly, Dean patted Sam on the back and said, “Okay, at least it’s ‘happy drunk’ Sammy.”

Sam pushed back a bit, hands on Dean’s shoulders. His brow furrowed with confusion “Why? Is it ‘angry drunk’ Dean? Are you mad at me? Did I do something?”

“Naw,” Dean said, “Let’s just go home before you turn into ‘chick flick’ Sammy or worse.”

“What’s worse?” Raeth asked, having been pulled along in Sam’s wake through the crowd.

“You don’t want to know,” Dean said, ominously.

Raeth and Castiel guided the boys to the front door and waited while they settled the – sizable – check, in cash after Castiel insisted. Sam was walking as if his legs were made of rubber and giggling like a little boy every time he almost fell. Dean was no less stable on his feet, though actively insisting that he was fine. Still when they reached the Impala, he dug into his front pocket and tossed the keys to Castiel.

“Here,” he said, heading for the passenger door, “I may be fine but I know when I can’t drive.”

Sam stopped walking immediately. “Oh, no. No. I can’t ride in the back seat. I’ll throw up.”

Dean had been about to get in the car but he stood back up abruptly. “Oh hell no. No puking in the car, Sam. That’s right up there with no dogs.”

“I’ll take Sam back to the motel,” Raeth said quickly. She put her hand on his arm. “Stay with me. Don’t get sick.”

There was a whir of wings and she vanished with Sam. Dean glared at Castiel over the roof of the Impala.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled.

“Wouldn’t dare,” Cas replied, rolling his eyes again and opening the driver’s door.


	77. Chick Flick! Drunk Sammy

The swift transition from the parking lot to the motel room was disorienting even when Sam wasn’t drunk. He swayed on his feet for a moment, reaching out to grab Raeth’s shoulder.

“Steady,” she said, catching him around the waist and getting under his arm to hold him up.

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head and instantly realizing it had been a mistake. “Ouch,” then he laughed, “I am really _really_ drunk.”

Raeth smiled at him sympathetically. “I can fix that for you. Would you like to be _not_ drunk anymore?”

Sam appeared to consider that for a moment. “No. I worked too hard to get in this condition and I kind of want to stay in it. _But_ , in the morning, I’m going to have one bitch of a hangover. Can you help with that?”

“Of course,” she said, “Right now, how about if we sit on the bed and get undressed.”

Sam grinned and leaned in to rub noses with her. “Yeah and then what, after we get undressed.”

“Not we, you,” Raeth corrected, steering him to the bed and settling him on it. “You need to sleep.”

Sam made a disappointed sound but flopped into a sitting position and tried to kick off his loafers. After failing to even get the toes of one foot to make contact with the heel of the other foot, he threw his hands in the air and said, “I can’t,” and then giggled.

“I’ll do it,” Raeth said.

Sam watched with an expression of bemused curiosity while Raeth knelt to pull off his loafers. Ordinarily having Raeth kneel in front of him would have brought an instant reaction of arousal. At the moment, he was just too drunk; or at least he thought he was. Besides, Dean was on his way back. It was nice just to be alone for the moment, with Raeth.

He leaned forward and draped his arms around her neck and shoulders, closing his eyes, putting his forehead against hers.

“Sam?”

“Hum?”

“May I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

Raeth shook her head and laughed a little. “How did you manage to hit the dart board target when you can’t even get your own shoes off?”

Sam snorted. His voice was still measured as he worked to steady it and concentrate on what he was saying. “My Dad. He made sure that Dean and I had dead-on accurate aim when we were both still really young. Then he upped the stakes by spinning us around until we should still hit anything he wanted us to. Then he blindfolded us and spun us around. He tried to make it a game and Dean loved it. I did it because…. Well, if Dean could do it then so could I. By the time I was ten, there wasn’t a target I couldn’t hit.”

The sound of a car pulling into the motel parking lot briefly caught Sam’s attention. Headlights strafed the room and by the time they had faded Sam had dismissed it. Not the Impala, not a threat, so immaterial. He took a breath and resumed speaking,

“Those kinds of skills just stay I guess. But you know what, my Dad was a lot of things but I think at heart he was always a Marine. He never let Dean and I compete. He always made sure we helped each other and rewarded us as a team. We were never really his sons. We were his very tiny military unit-“

Sam broke off as if he had just realized how much talking he was doing. But Raeth was simply kneeling in front of him, rocked back on her heels, gazing up at him with an expression of rapt attention. Sam felt heat rise up from his chest and through his cheeks and all the way to his hairline.

“Sorry,” he said, looking away, “I get chatty when I’m drunk.”

Raeth rose up on her knees and began working on his belt buckle. “You can always talk to me, Sam. I don’t want to have to get you drunk to hear what you need to say.”

Sam watched Raeth’s deft and elegant fingers working his belt loose and stopped breathing a little bit. It was one of the most sensual and promising things that she did. But he knew that tonight was different. He was too wasted for that kind of connection and he didn’t want to do anything he was pretty sure he wouldn’t remember in the morning.

“Can I ask you something now?” He blurted out.

Raeth gave him a saucy smile. “You just did.”

Sam’s laugh was immediate and a little self-deprecating. “Oh, yeah, okay. Who says angels don’t have a sense of humor?”

Raeth tilted her head and surveyed him curiously. “You can always ask me anything you want and I’ll try to answer the best way I can.”

Sam nodded. “I have to ask you this now. I’m not sure I’d have the courage to when I’m sober.”

Her hands were still resting on his open belt buckle, waiting. Sam put his hands on her waist and said, “Stand up first. Having you down there doing that is a little distracting.”

Raeth stood, which put her just above Sam’s eye level, even though he was sitting. With his hands resting on her hips, holding her close and still, Sam looked up. She could see the seriousness descend into his red-rimmed eyes and stroked his cheek reassuringly.

“When you called me Lucifer’s mirror,” he said, quietly, “What did you mean? I mean, I’ve heard Dean called Michael’s sword and I get that. Dean’s a weapon even when he’s not armed. But what is a mirror? Why does he want…. Me?”

Raeth touched his hair and then ran her fingers through it, watching the dim light catch fire in the chestnut locks.

“You have to remember this is the angels talking,” she said, “Some of the similarities that they see, you’ve already been told – the rebellious second son, the one marching to his own rhythm. It’s hard for angels to consider disobedience as anything but punishable by the most extreme means. But you aren’t an angel, Sam. You didn’t rebel. You exercised the gift of your free will and that’s your right. There are many things that on the surface that make it seem you and my errant brother made the same choices. But it’s just surface. There’s no depth to it; and it’s not like you raised an army and went to war against your father and brother. In fact you returned to them willingly when they needed you and in spite of your differences I think you love them both unconditionally, Lucifer claims that everything he did was because he couldn’t love humanity more than he loved our father. But really Lucifer has never loved anyone but himself. You…..” Raeth paused and smiled at him tenderly, brushed her thumb against his cheek. “You’re the most unselfish human being I’ve ever met. You have virtually no ego that needs to be satisfied. It makes you a reflection of Lucifer, opposite in many ways,” Raeth paused and shrugged, “So not a sword, not a weapon, just a mirror image. Does that help you understand?”

As she had spoken, Raeth had seen the misery lifting from Sam’s eyes, the dawning of understanding, something helping him to see his current situation as something other than a deserved punishment. He was so impossibly beautiful- cheeks still flushed, eyes bright, hair tousled - that it made Raeth ache. She wondered if that image could be captured somehow, on canvas or by camera; if something could immortalize that look in his eyes. There was something so vulnerable in them, a softness she had rarely seen in someone who was so brilliant, analytical and guarded.

He lifted his head and offered her a kiss. Then for a moment the kiss hung in the air, waiting until Raeth accepted. It was a calm and quiet kiss at first, deepening slowly. Raeth was sharply aware of each detail – the shape of his lips, the slight touch of his tongue, the contour of his cheekbones and the line of his neck as it sloped into his shoulders, the way he tasted faintly of alcohol.

When they broke away so that Sam could catch his breath, he was still leaning forward, forehead pressed against hers.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly, “For being on my side, for being here, for putting up with me.”

Raeth laughed a little. “You’re not all that hard to put up with.”

Sam looked into her eyes. “We can’t keep doing what we did this morning,” he said.

“What we did this morning saved millions of lives,” she reminded him.

“I know and that’s great. But it’s one thing. We can’t just keep putting out fires as they spring up. We’ve got to find a way to end this that won’t mean Dean and I trapped inside two archangels who are trying to kill each other.”

His voice was getting distressed again. “I know,” Raeth said, quickly, cutting him off, “and the angels are searching for another answer. But that’s not going to happen tonight and you need to sleep. Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up, unless you want to sleep in your jeans.”

Sam considered that and then shrugged and stood. His jeans hit the floor and he stepped out of them, leaving them where they fell. Raeth waved a hand and the sheets drew back a split second before Sam crashed back onto the bed. He crawled up to the pillows, rolled onto his stomach, punched the pillows under his head and sighed.

They heard the sound of another car engine, this time a familiar growl. Headlights stabbed the room as the car pulled up in the space outside.

“That’s Dean,” Sam murmured into the bedding, voice slurred.

“Yes,” Raeth agreed, “So both Winchesters are safe and sound, though on their way to epic hangovers. Close your eyes, Sam. I’ll be here to guard you.”

“Mmmph,” Sam said, which could have meant anything.

But a moment later, as Castiel and Dean burst back into the room, with Dean talking too loud and complaining about everything, Sam’s breathing had already settled into the easy rhythm of sleep.


	78. Love Isn't the Problem

“I know this isn’t making you happy,” Castiel said, sounding genuinely distressed. He paused, gazing at her with rain-blue eyes.

Raethaniel gazed back at him, considering what he was asking her to do and why. At the same time she realized that Castiel didn’t enjoy being the one introducing this idea to her. To go along with him could be considered disobedience – a path no angel tread lightly.

They were sitting in deck chairs at the edge of the motel pool. The sky was just beginning to lighten. Streaks of orange and gold were rising up in the east.

“I am supposed to protect him,” she said, carefully, gazing determinedly at the water.

Castiel sighed and to Raeth it sounded like aggravation – at the mad idea that anyone could actually protect Sam Winchester; or at the equally mad idea that Sam Winchester would ever acquiesce to Lucifer (and thus need protection), Raeth wasn’t sure.

“I know,” he rasped, “and we both know why we’ve been ordered to guard the Winchesters.”

“Does it matter the reason?” Raethaniel asked, “Wouldn’t you protect them now, at any cost, just for their own sake?”

“I would,” Castiel admitted.

“If I leave Sam now it might appear as disobedience. I’m no good to Sam if Michael decides to chain me back under a mountain,” she pointed out.

“We’re guardians and we can do that without having to be with them all the time,” Castiel reminded her.

“I know, but- “ Raeth broke off. She wasn’t sure how to explain why; and she really wasn’t sure that she wanted to admit why, even to herself.

Castiel’s expression melted into sympathy. “I understand,” he said, “Raethaniel, I _do_. But Sam and Dean need to work through their relationship on their own. They need to become a cohesive team again. Sam needs to learn not to run away from his family and Dean needs to stop making him want to run. Sam needs to stand up for himself and Dean needs to listen.”

“And they have time to do this?” Raeth demanded, “in the middle of _this_ , in the middle of trying to save the world?”

“They can’t save the world unless they can save their relationship,” Castiel answered, “and they can’t do that with you and me hovering over them.

“They love each other more than any two brothers I’ve ever known,” Raeth protested.

“Love isn’t the problem,” Castiel replied, sighing again, “Love and devotion…. They have more than enough of that. Dean is angry with Sam but he’d still jump in front of a bullet for him. But if we’re here, Sam will turn to you for trust and support instead of working this out with his brother.”

“And Dean?” Raeth asked.

Castiel sighed again, this time in resignation. “Dean doesn’t turn to anyone.” Then he paused to clarify, “Well, except for Sam that is and right now he doesn’t want to do that.”

Raeth looked away. She knew Castiel was right. Sam was eaten up with guilt over starting the apocalypse and it wouldn’t matter how many times she forgave him or asked him to forgive himself. Sam wouldn’t move on until Dean forgave him.

But, heaven help her, she was in love with Sam Winchester and probably had been since his promising, ever-changing eyes had first met hers. There was precedent for it, of course. Angels had fallen in love with humans countless times in the past and no good had ever come of it. She had lost her own one-time partner Ashmedai when he fell in love with a human. Raethaniel had just never thought it would happen to her. The thought of being away from Sam, unable to see him, unable to touch him or be certain he was all right; to not be able to find him instantly or even know where he was…. It was almost unbearable. Raethaniel had never been as certain of anything as she was now of her alarming and unending love for Sam.

As if he was reading her thoughts, Castiel said, “I understand. It isn’t easy to separate from Dean either.”

Raeth glanced at him. She understood that Castiel would always feel protective of Dean. The bond they shared was deeper and went back farther than the one she had with Sam; if what she had with him was a bond at all, at least not for Sam. Raethaniel was utterly certain how she felt about him. It was more than being his guardian. She’d stand up to Lucifer with nothing but her angel blade to protect Sam. She’d burn anything that tried to harm him to ashes.

Sam Winchester’s name had become more sacred, more valid, sweeter even than anything she had known in heaven.

She was also utterly certain that Sam had other things on his mind at the moment.

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Raethaniel,” He said, “I’m just telling you what I think we should both do.”

“So you’re leaving Dean?”

Castiel looked resigned as he nodded. Raeth touched the back of his hand and then curled hers around it and squeezed.

“How do I know you’re right about this?” She asked.

Cas gave her a small, sad smile. “You’ll just have to trust your big brother, I guess.”

Raeth actually laughed a little, a soft exhalation of mirth. “I do trust you; and you’ve known the Winchesters longer than I have. But how do we know that leaving them alone will even work?”

“We don’t,” Castiel conceded. “But we have to let them try. It’s not like it’s forever.”

Raeth shook her head ruefully. “It’s just until the Winchesters have a …. What did Dean call it? Chick flick moment?”

“I suppose,” Cas agreed.

Raeth laughed a little. “I still don’t even know what that really means. But the way Sam talked to me when he was drunk, after we got back to the room, I assume it means being openly honest with each other?”

“Yes, and they’ve done it before. So we can have hope, at least; and it’s not like it’s goodbye for us, not with them. I’m not sure that will ever be possible.”

Raeth stood up. “All right, my brother,” she said. “But I am not leaving without telling him that I will be gone and how he can still get in touch with me. I don’t want him to think he’s been abandoned.”

“That’s certainly fair,” Cas said. Without rising from his deck chair, he vanished.

Raeth stood watching the first bright rays of sunlight pierce the sky. Then she went back into the motel room, to lie beside Sam and wait for him to wake.

(0)

Sam woke before Dean, without the benefit of an alarm clock making his life even more miserable. The entire world seemed to be rocking and spinning and Sam’s head and stomach were spinning in total agreement. He considered opening his eyes to see where he was, but his eyelids were all gummed together and felt dried out. So he resisted the temptation. But then the earth roiled again and Sam had to lie there concentrating very hard on keeping his insides inside where they belonged. Teeth clenched he waited for the nausea to pass or death to find him; whichever came first would be a blessing.

Several long moments came and went before he realized with bitter regret that he was still alive. A deep groan of frustration escaped him, causing his aching head to throb.

Someone touched his forehead with a cool hand, brushing away the hair that was stuck to his face.

“Hush, Sam,” Raeth whispered.

Only it didn’t sound like a whisper to Sam. It sounded like someone banging a gong inside his head.

“Raeth, please,” he whimpered.

“Please what?”

“Kill me,” Sam begged, “If you love me at all, just kill me.”

It seemed to him that Raeth laughed a little. He cautiously opened his eyes and then instantly slammed them shut again. Blinding white light stabbed his eyes like arrows and sent pain bouncing around the inside his head. Sam groaned like the damned.

“What if I just cure you?” Raeth asked. “That _is_ what you asked me to do last night.”

“I don’t remember last night,” he told her in an agonized moan.

Two fingers touched his forehead once more and just that quickly, Sam felt better. The dizziness ended. The nausea vanished to be replaced by ravenous hunger. He sat up, blinking and trying to understand the miracle that had just occurred.

“You should have killed me,” he said, shaking his head, running his own fingers through his hair and pushing it back.

Raeth was sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing at him with amusement and sadness.

“Because I’ll just do that to myself again someday and you won’t be around to fix it.”

“I’ll always be with you, Sam. All you have to do is call me.”

Sam wanted that to be true. So he chose not to argue. He gestured at Dean, still passed out on the other bed.

“Can you fix him before he wakes up feeling worse than I just did?” Sam asked.

Raeth stood up, gracefully, and touched Dean for just an instant.

“He’ll be fine. He’s sleeping peacefully, now.”

“Thanks,” Sam said, genuinely.

“Let me take you to breakfast,” Raeth said.

“I need a shower first,” Sam answered.

“I’ll wait for you then.”

Sam hesitated and then leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll be right out,” he said.

(0)

There was a small diner in the casino across the street, open for breakfast and already doing a lively slot machine business. The man at counter waved at them to choose whatever booth they wanted and they once again took one at the back, away from the other occupants.

The healthy food choices were limited but Sam was getting better at figuring out how to get around standard diner fare. He asked for a veggie omelet made with egg whites and a side of pancakes. He stuck with water and ordered tea for Raethaniel.

As always they waited until their food had been brought to the table and were guaranteed at least a few minutes of uninterrupted time. Sam could tell that there was something Raethaniel wanted to tell him. But he also knew that it wasn’t anything she really wanted to say. So he gave her time by telling what he did remember of the night before and encouraging her to try some of his breakfast.

Finally she asked him, “Do you remember telling me this morning that we had to do more than just put out fires as they sprang up?”

“Yes,” he said, “I kind of remember that. At least I remember thinking it and if you know about it then I must have said something.”

Slowly, Raeth told Sam that she was going to be gone for a while, that those fires were springing up all over the world and not just in North America; that she and Castiel were going to find allies in heaven to help them. As she spoke Sam gradually stopped eating and by the time she was done he had set down his fork and leaned back against the vinyl upholstery.

“Okay,” he said, hesitantly, “So how long will you be gone?”

“I’m an angel,” she reminded him, “I’ll never really be gone from you. All you have to call me,” and quickly she amended, “on the phone. Demons can’t hear prayers. But I am not quite certain what Lucifer can hear.”

For a long time after that they said nothing, though it was the kind of ‘nothing’ that seemed to say everything. Sam looked into Raeth’s lovely dark brown eyes and saw all the things that had happened between them, right from the beginning.

He picked up his fork and started in on his pancakes again.

“Will you be safe?” He asked.

“As any of us are,” she answered, not ever wanting to lie to him. “I will be careful.”

Sam nodded and finished eating, pushed the plate back and signaled for the check. They went through the societal motions of paying for the meal and leaving a tip and then left to the polite invitations of the proprietor to come again.

Sam thought that was highly unlikely.

They walked back across the street and stopped by the Impala. Sam turned to look at her and then stepped closer, cupping her face in his palm. He stared into her eyes for a moment, fingers strumming over her cheek and jaw, memorizing every line. Then he gathered her in his arms, bending so that he could get his face into her hair, squeezing her so tightly she would have passed out had she needed to breathe. He wanted all the love and memories and touching that came with goodbye, even if it was only a temporary one.

When he let her go again his eyes were moist. Raeth placed her hand on his cheek and smiled at him. Then she vanished in a flutter of wings.


	79. November 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A "Then and Now" chapter.

Sam realized as he shifted around, trying to find his favorite position on the front seat, that he was still exhausted from the events of the day (and the night) before. His hangover was gone and he was showered, dressed in clean clothes and he had eaten. With Dean at the wheel there wasn’t much for him to do except think and he didn’t really want to do that.

The Impala seemed strangely empty to Sam without Castiel and Raethaniel occupying it with them; and that was strange to him. For years now it had been just him and Dean in the car and that had been enough. It had even been a relief at times after Dad had given the car to Dean and gone off on his own. Sam felt a heavy twinge of guilt over that thought, but Dad had never been easy for Sam and some days had been worse than others.

He closed his eyes and was lulled by the familiar, steady sound of tires on asphalt and one of Dean’s cassettes playing. Sam fell asleep without trying.

**Then:**

Sam had eased into puberty a little at a time. He hadn’t even started growing until he was 16. But looking back, Dean could always see it, as far back as age 12, when Sam had started glaring at Dad like he wanted to be grounded until he was 90 and every time he said ‘yes, sir’ it sounded like ‘fuck you’ instead.

It didn’t matter that a lot of what Sam said was true. His questions and complaints were legitimate – things Dean thought about a lot too and words were sometimes right there waiting for Dean to say them. But he didn’t like giving Dad attitude and only someone with a death wish would provoke Dad today of all days.

By age 17, it was pretty clear that both Sam and Dad were nearing the end of a long, abused and very frayed rope. Dean had learned to dance around and between them, being the tie-breaker, the peace-maker.

It was late fall under a gray sky with a chill wind blowing dry leaves around in small eddies. They were at a flea market looking for anything made of silver because they needed to melt it down to make bullets and new knives. They’d used up their supply three nights previous when the rest of the country had been celebrating Halloween and the Winchesters had been battling things that ruled that night; things the vast majority of people didn’t know existed. They were exhausted, though they had gotten cleaned up at the hotel earlier that morning. Dean wished he was back there now, collapsed on the creaky bed with the lumpy mattress, eyes closed and fast asleep. But they couldn’t pass up “The Biggest Flea Market in Vermont” on the last weekend it would be open. So he had hunched down in his denim jacket, turned up the collar and gone to work.

The Winchesters had separated to make the most of their time. John hadn’t bothered giving them a list of things to look for. They knew. Besides, today it was better if they had some space.

Dean had used charm, sleight of hand and a fake credit card to fill a heavy duty laundry bag with candlesticks and tarnished platters and a huge assortment of cutlery, forks, spoons and cups. It was starting to get heavy so he decided to take it back to the car and look for his father and brother.

He didn’t have to look far. He saw them standing by the car. He could tell by the body language that they were fighting. He could hear their raised voices on the wind, though he couldn’t make out what the fight was about this time.

_Damn it, Sam, what did you do now? Today?_

He slung the heavy bag over his shoulder and picked up his pace, striding towards them like a referee. Before he could reach them, though, Sam threw his hands in the air, whirled around and stalked away, heading for the main road. Dean faltered, not sure now whether to go after Sam or continue to the car. He was spared having to make a decision. John looked at him as if he had always known Dean was there and Dean obeyed his gesture to come to him.

“All silver?” John asked, eyeing the bag.

“Yeah,” Dean answered. He hesitated before adding, “A really nice set of knives and a machete too; and a new jacket for Sammy. Well, a used jacket for Sammy. His doesn’t fit him anymore and he can’t have mine now.”

It was true. The days of hand-me-downs from Dean had been over for years, ever since Dean quit growing. But Dad never seemed to notice when things didn’t fit Sam. He was too used to the days when he could just toss Dean’s things to Sam.

Dean braced for a fight but John just eyed him for a moment and then grunted, “Get in the car.”

Dean opened the back door and tossed his bag onto the seat, next to 3 others. He slammed the door but then hesitated. John was already by the driver’s door, waiting, watching him. Dean looked over his shoulder at the disappearing form of his younger brother, took a cautious breath and said,

“Maybe I should go with Sam, make sure he walks back to the motel.”

John scowled. “Where else is he going to go?”

Dean almost blinked. His father was the smartest guy he knew, except when it came to Sam. Didn’t he know that Sam could stick out his thumb, give someone _that_ look with those puppy dog eyes and they next they knew, he’d be driving off into the sunset with god-knows-who?

And he’d be perfectly safe no matter who picked him up. Sam looked harmless. At the moment he was tall, but wiry, whip-thin, with that disarming smile and the aforementioned eyes. But he was deadly. He was a Winchester. He feared nothing. Dean knew that Sam was armed at the moment, even if he wasn’t sure exactly what Sam was carrying.

“I just think I should go with him,” Dean answered, slowly, shrugging.

John shook his head. “He’s _your_ brother. Go see if you can talk sense into him.”

Dean nodded respectfully and said, “Yes, sir.” These days, Dad always called Sam ‘your brother’.

John tossed the motel room key over the roof of the Impala and Dean caught it without thinking.

“Go get him,” John said. “I’ll be back late.”

Dean swallowed because he knew what John meant when he said that and the condition he was likely to be in when he got back; especially today. It went without saying that they wouldn’t see John again until well after midnight, that he would expect everything to be locked up and openings salted, that it was up to Dean to keep Sammy in line; and that John would be drunk when they saw him again.

He just said, ‘yes, sir’ again and then stepped back. John got in, gunned the engine and pulled out, the tires spitting gravel as he went. Watching the Impala drive, Dean couldn't help the feeling of despair.  

Seventeen years. Sometimes it felt like it had happened in a different lifetime and sometimes he was still 4 years old, holding his baby brother and watching their house burn. There was ‘life before’ and ‘life after’ the fire. But the ache never went away.

Every year they focused on Halloween and then every year November 2 salmmed into them like a freight train. They were always exhausted from the hunt and Dean hated that his father, inevitably, spent the night away from them, drinking, lost in his own sorrow and pain and every year it was worse because they still hadn’t caught the thing that had killed their mother. He hated that his father spent the night wracked with guilt – separated from them, pulling away from them on the one night they needed him the most.

Dean sighed and then ran to catch up with Sam.

Sam glanced at him when he caught up and then fixed his eyes determinedly on the road ahead. But Sam altered his stride, shortened it to help Dean keep pace. It irritated Dean because he understood that the days of Sammy having to run to keep up with him were gone with the days of hand-me-days. Sam was only an inch taller than he was now, but his legs were long and getting longer. The guy was going to be the size of a moose before he was done growing.

Sam’s face was set in hard lines, jaw tight, everything young and carefree that should be there was hidden under heavy bangs and pale skin.

“Should I ask?” Dean wanted to know. “I mean, christ, Sam, you know better than to mouth off to him. You know what day it is, right?”

Sam didn’t answer. The muscles in his jaw rippled. Normally Dean would have felt at least a little sympathy. But not today. Whatever Sam’s issue was, November 2 trumped it and Sam should have kept his mouth shut.

But then Dean noticed the way Sam’s eyes were squinted almost shut and the way he was avoiding looking at him. Sam wasn’t _crying_ was he?

Through clenched teeth and in a raw voice, Sam said, “Of _course,_ I know what day it is.”

“All right then what the hell?”

“Nothing,” Sam snapped, “I just don’t want to be out here, doing this. Not today.”

Dean bit back a growl and kept silent. Perfect, another night of a hormonal brother and a drunk father. Winchester’s at their finest on November 2. They trudged down the side of the road in the blustery air, shoulders hunched, hands stuffed in their pockets. The sleeves of Sam’s khaki jacket didn’t even reach his wrists. Dean cursed himself for not getting the new jacket out of the bag before he’d tossed it into the Impala.

“I got you a new coat,” he blurted out, as a way of easing the tension. “You’ll like it. It’s extra-large, denim with sheepskin on the inside. It will keep you warm.”

“Do you have it?” Sam asked.

“No, it’s in the car,” Dean admitted.

Sam snorted. “Then it isn’t doing me much good right now is it?”

Dean felt a twinge of anger again. “Aw, come on, Sam. Give us all a break, will you? All of us are hurting.”

Sam didn’t flinch, not really. But it seemed to Dean that his brother looked storm-tossed again. So Dean shut up and just kept walking. It took several long blocks of silence before Sam took a long, shuddery breath – the kind that made it seem that he was having trouble breathing at all. Dean shot an anxious look at his brother but before he could say anything, Sam spoke.

“What was she like?”

It was the question that Dean had always known was coming. It had taken 17 years for his moody and reticent brother to finally give it voice. But there it was.

“I was 4, Sammy,” Dean hedged.

“But you must to remember something,” Sam said and it was pleading.

Dean sighed heavily. It occurred to him that he was 21 now and they could find a liquor store and get a couple of 6-packs and take them back to the room. But he figured at least one of them should stay sober and Dad would nail him to the wall if he got Sammy drunk.

But damn a beer would taste good about now…..

“She’d put you down for the night and Dad would read to me,” Dean started, his voice little more than a gruff whisper. “Then we’d go into your room and we’d all say good night to you. Then she’d put me to bed. She’d turn out the lights and sit on the edge of the bed and rub my back. She didn’t sing so much as just hum.”

Some of the lines on Sam’s face were softening, giving him a wistful-sad look. He blinked a few times and Dean suspected it was to hold back more tears. Life ‘before the fire’ was something Sam would never know in real memory. Dean could still see her framed in the door of his bedroom saying, “ _Goodnight, little man. Sweet dreams_.”

“She’d get mad when Dad made waffles on Saturday morning because he always made such a mess and one time he used powdered sugar instead of flour and it was _really_ a mess,” Dean went on. “She made him clean it up and I helped.”

Sam’s throat worked convulsively and Dean stopped talking. He wanted to share more but some things too vague and some were too precious to share even with Sam. They entered a busy part of the city and Dean spotted a liquor store in the strip mall across the street.

He grabbed Sam’s arm to stop him, turning him so they could cross.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Nothin’. Just come with me,” Dean said, making a snap decision and not caring.

As they hurried through the oncoming traffic to get to the other side, Dean was passed caring. Dad would be too wasted himself to notice if Sam was hungover in the morning. Chances were they’d still not be on speaking terms for a few days, if not the rest of the week. He would get Sam back to the motel, lock it up and check the salt lines. Then they’d get out the pictures, the ones that were always with them, the few that had survived ‘after the fire’ and they’d get drunk too.

With any luck, Dean thought, it could become the new thing the Winchesters did on November 2. After all, every family had its traditions.

**Now:**

Sam woke when the car slowed down and he could feel it turning. He was instantly alert, hand automatically reaching for the knife in his back pocket.

“Relax,” Dean said, “Baby needs gas and I need to take a leak.”

Sam grunted and began the process of unfolding all the long feet of his body so that he could get out of the car. They gassed up the Impala and then into the attached convenience store. They emerged with snacks, water, beer and the check-out girl’s phone number written on the back of the receipt.

They got back into the car, doors slamming. Sam cracked open a water bottle and took a sip. Dean sat looking at the name and phone number on the receipt, car keys still in his lap. Sam sat back, leaned on the door and stared at him in disbelief.

“What?” Dean asked.

“You want to hang around town for a one-night stand?” Sam countered.

Dean got a sly look in his eyes, creases showing at the corners and mischief dancing in their depths.

“Why? What are you offering?” He asked.

Sam – in the middle of taking another drink – snorted water through his nose and it _hurt_ , goddamn it. Dean laughed and looked delighted.

“Shut up, jerk,” Sam said, wiping tears with the back of his hand.

“Bitch,” Dean returned, starting the car.

Sam found a couple of crumpled napkins in the car and wiped the water off the dashboard – without Dean having to tell him. They pulled back out onto the blacktop and Sam realized that he was suddenly content. Somewhere out there evil existed and it would need to be fought. But at the moment it was back to basics - in the Impala with Dean beside him. It was familiar, it was easy; and for right now it was theirs.

“So what now?” Sam asked Dean.

“We concentrate on finding the Colt. That’s going to be mostly research and that’s mostly you; and mostly you trying to keep me from going nuts while we do it. Up for that?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

(0)

 

 

 

 

 


	80. We Were There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a tag to I Believe the Children Are Our Future.  
> Soundtrack: Is this Love by Whitesnake

They drove all night, heading east and Sam wasn’t sure that even Dean knew where they were going. They drove past midnight, both of them hypnotized by the steady sound of the wheels and the black and white ribbon of road stretching in front of them. Sam spent most of that time sleeping.

Somewhere in Iowa they pulled over again and this time when they got back to the car, Dean tossed Sam the keys.

“Here,” he said, “I’m beat.”

Sam drove east for a few more hours – for no better reason than that Dean had chosen to go east- until he stomach growled in frustration and he realized they hadn’t eaten in hours. He pulled off and got a room at an Econolodge with a 24-hour Denny’s across the street.

He pulled Dean from the car, grumbling. But Dean staggered into the motel room, washed up and then let Sam guide him to the Grand Slam breakfast that had his name on it.

They ate as dawn stained the eastern sky and then went back to the room and crawled into bed still fully clothes. It was hard to say which one fell asleep faster.

They awoke to the hushed but angry voices of two angels having an argument.

Sam blinked as he lifted his head up from the pillow. He had been sleeping face down. So he had to turn to see if he was imagining them. Dean, as always, had taken the bed closest to the door as if Sam was still 10 years old and Dean needed to protect him from whatever might come bursting through (and as if evil really ever just used the door.) So Sam had to look up and over the shapeless lump of blankets in the other bed to see what was going on.

It was Raethaniel and Castiel, standing by the window in silhouette. Sam stared for a moment before dropping his head back down with a groan, still certain it was a hallucination.

But then he could still hear their whispering voices.

“I did what I thought I had to do,” Castiel growled.

“You went up against the antichrist _alone_ ,” Raeth growled back. “You could have been killed and I would never have known what happened to you. What could you possibly have been thinking?”

Face buried in the pillow, Sam frowned. Okay, so that’s what she was mad about; and she had a point. On the other hand, almost getting killed was what they _did_. Castiel had chosen to risk himself and no one else. He deserved some credit for an action that brave and unselfish.

On the heels of that thought was the realization that he hadn’t seen Raeth in more than a month and he had missed her terribly. He lifted his head up again and this time his view of Raeth and Cas was almost entirely blocked. Dean had decided to sit up. He had his knees pulled against his chest and his arms loosely draped around them. His head was turned so that Sam couldn’t see his expression. But he didn’t really need to know that Dean was just staring at them in a way that said he was 200% done.

“Cas! What the hell?” Dean asked, in the silence that followed Raeth’s demand. It was an all-encompassing question. What are you doing here? What are you fighting about? Where had you been? Dean could get a lot of mileage out of just a few words.

Sam rolled over and pushed up on his elbow. She was back in her sweater and tight jeans and boots. Her hair was loose and thrown back over her shoulders. She looked like fire to Sam and his heart lurched a little bit in his chest.

Cas ignored Dean and continued to hold Raethaniel’s gaze with his own. They looked like a living tableau of ‘irresistible force and immovable object.’

“The thing is still young, not yet in his full power. If I had taken him unaware there wouldn’t have been a problem. I didn’t know he was awake,” Castiel explained.

“And if you’d had some back up, maybe you would have known he was awake,” Raeth said. She shook her head in an exasperated way. “I know you feel that there aren’t angel who will work with you. But I would have helped you and Lamechiel would have and if nothing else we knew _where_ he was and we could have alerted Michael. Even if Michael wants this final confrontation, he doesn’t want something that can kill the hosts of heaven. Now we have no idea where it’s gone.”

From the bed, Dean said, “Give it up, Cas. You’ll never win a fight with a woman.”

Castiel looked at Dean in confusion. “Raethaniel is not a woman. Raethaniel is an angel.”

Castiel had never looked like a fallen angel to Sam, never looked lost or alone. But now he looked so much like a shadow of what he had once been that Sam took pity on him. Cas didn’t seen angry with Raethaniel, or even frustrated. He just seemed tired of defending himself. Deciding to break up the argument for as long as he could, Sam got up from the bed and marched around the other one, ignoring Dean. He stopped a few feet from Raeth.

“Hey,” he said, “Do you think you could stop being mad at him long enough to say hello to me? I haven’t seen you in so long.”

His voice was soft and full of longing. He gave her a heart-melting half-smile, almost self-derisive to think that he would miss her so much and admit to it now in front of everyone. He opened his arms, offering warmth and tenderness and a kind of sorcery that Raeth had never imagined existed.

The anger in her eyes faded into regret as she acquiesced and walked forward, straight into his waiting embrace. Long arms folded around her. He bent over as he always did, so that he could get his face close to hers. Raeth reached up and put her arms around his neck.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” she said, quietly, “I forgot.”

He breathed out an expression of disbelief. “What?” He asked, straightening, resting his hands on her shoulders. “You forgot that 6 weeks seems like an eternity to humans? You forgot you were supposed to be watching out for me?”

She gazed back at him with eyes that were suddenly more bronze than brown, dragon-gold with flecks of fire: a pair of brown eyes that suddenly meant heaven to him. But her gaze was frank, head tilted as she watched him curiously. She was waiting for Sam to realize something, of that he was certain.

He frowned at her, feeling the weight of her stare as a challenge. Then he laughed again, softly.

“You never stopped watching me, did you? You’ve always been able to see me.”

She nodded and gave him a gentle smile, eyes now lit with affection. “Always. I never stopped watching you. When you spent all those weeks looking for the Colt, I was still with you. We both were. Weren’t we, Castiel?”

“Yes,” Cas said, gruffly.

“When you’re driving all night, even though you’re exhausted, we’re there,” Raeth said.

“When you’re being beaten up by Paris Hilton,” Cas said, sardonically, “We were there.”

Sam’s face broke into a slow smile and then he huffed out another laugh. Dean growled at Cas to shut up, then quickly backtracked and said, “Wait. You were _there_ and you let that bitch beat me up? She could have killed me.”

Castiel didn’t seem the least concerned about Dean’s rising tone of frustration.

“It was obvious Sam was going to be free soon,” he said, offhandedly. “It’s not as if all we were doing was watching the two of you.”

“Oh well excuse me,” Dean grumped. He flung back the covers and stood up, still in his clothes from yesterday. “I need a shower.”

The bathroom door slammed in a way that made the paper-thin walls shake. Someone in the room next door banged a fist on the wall and hollered at them to shut the fuck up, some people were trying to sleep. A moment later the pipes gave a loud bang and they could hear water running in the bathroom.

Sam rolled his eyes and scratched his fingers through his tangled hair. He wanted a shower too, but since Dean had beaten him to the first one, he went to plan B.

“Dean’s going to want coffee when he gets out of there,” he looked at Raeth, “Want to take a walk?”

Castiel interrupted before she could answer. “I’ll get Dean coffee. You two just walk.”

He vanished with a snap of air, leaving Sam alone with Raeth for the first time in weeks.

“You want to talk here, or take a walk?”

“Let’s go,” Raeth said.

Sam grabbed the jacket he’d tossed over the back of the chair by the door, got the keys off the table and ushered her out the door.

The Econo-Lodge was in a cluster of strip malls, gas stations, fast food places with familiar names, chain restaurants. It was early enough in the morning that most of the places were closed, except for the All-night Shari’s. There were few cars and even fewer people. A bus pulled up at a stop and three weary-looking commuters shuffled on board. The doors closed and the bus left with a noisy blast of exhaust.

“Are you hungry?” Raeth asked.

Sam looked around at the questionable choices available and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I kind of want to go for a run, but not in blue jeans and loafers.”

Raeth took a breath and lifted her hand, indicating that she was about to tell him that she could change his clothes if he wanted. But he held up his own hand to stop her.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s just talk. Okay? I really did miss you.”

A shadow seemed to form in her eyes, taking away the humanity and hinting at something ancient and mysterious. Sam’s steps faltered for a moment because he never knew what that meant, whether he had insulted her, or triggered some forgotten memory. In the next instant the shadow had faded and he was left to wonder if he had imagined it.

But then she spoke in a hushed and mystified tone. “I missed you, too,” she said.

Sam Winchester had spent his entire life interrogating people and listening for the things they didn’t say, the hesitations and inflections that told him something was being held back, or that he was being lied to. He could tell instantly that Raeth was not lying to him. She _had_ missed him, even though she had been able to see him. But there was something she wasn’t saying.

“Is something wrong with missing me?” He asked, afraid of the answer.

Raeth held back answering again. They walked in silence, in unconscious lockstep, with Sam automatically pacing himself beside her. He gave her a nervous side glance, already feeling guilt rising up over whatever anguish this was costing her.

The oatmeal-colored sweater caressed the warm curves of her breasts and the jeans hugged her hips and legs. Long hair streamed behind her in waves of gold and wheat, honey and caramel.

“It’s not you, Sam,” Raeth said, finally. “It’s me. I’m not supposed to …. _feel._ I’m not supposed to miss you. You are my mission, my assignment, like many before. I am supposed to protect you. I’m not sure why this is different. But I _did_ miss you. I could see you, but I couldn’t talk to you, touch you, listen to you. So, yes. I missed you and I can’t quite explain that.”

Sam still felt the touch of guilt, though he wasn’t sure why at the moment. He quelled it and concentrated on her instead.

“So are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Having feelings for me?”

Raeth looked so uncomfortable that Sam regretted asking. But before he could brush the question aside, tell her not to worry about it, Raeth ducked her head, glanced away and said, “Yes.”

Sam’s heart lurched, because this was the very worst point in his life for a beautiful, mysterious woman to appear and start having feelings for him. He set aside his own feelings quickly, firmly and concentrated on her. Instinctively, He reached for her hand and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to do so. Raeth’s hand was almost completely dwarfed by his, but her fingers wrapped around it as best she could. Palms kissed. He could feel the faint rhythm of a pulse in her wrist. His own was thudding uncomfortably strong and fast.

“Will it get you into trouble?” He asked.

“Having feelings for you?” She asked. Then she shrugged and it seemed to him that she was trying to sound off-handed. “Heaven is in a bit of chaos at the moment. I am not sure anyone would notice; or if they do, it would only be to turn it to their advantage.”

Every protective instinct Sam had rose up in alarm. “How?” He demanded.

“I don’t know, but I’m not worried about it.”

Sam stopped walking and turned her towards him. “Should we be worried about it?”

“With all that is happening? No,” she paused to smile at him and slip her hands around his waist.

The still seemed to be something dark and foreboding, something lurking just beyond his awareness.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Yes,” she answered, “and you have to believe me, Sam. I won’t lie to you.”

“Can angels lie?”

“Oh yes, and quite easily if we must. But I made a personal vow never to lie to you and I mean to keep that promise. We have more to do right now than worry about angels evolving to feel.”

Sam didn’t know what to say to that. So he cradled her head in both hands and kissed her. Lips moved delicately together, a soft, gentle kiss, desperate with tenderness.

Raeth was right. With the world collapsing around them there was no reason to dwell on whatever was happening between them. Sam saw no light at the end of the current tunnel, no hope that he and Dean could get out of this alive.

A future, with Raeth or anyone else, seemed an impossibility.

Unless life really could offer miracles.


	81. Dean Will Hate It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Mostly to explain Raethaniel's absence for the next few episodes of S5

**Later the same morning** :

Like all motel room showers all across the country, no matter how cheap or how expensive, the showerhead in their current bathroom was much too low for Sam to actually stand under. In fact it directed the stream of water to somewhere just below his collar bone while he stared at the wall directly above the shower. It was also the smallest tub he had ever seen in his life – and narrow. His shoulders were hitting the curtain on one side and the wall on the other.

But on the plus side, after the horrendous bang inside the wall when it was turned on, the shower had lots of hot water and good pressure. Dean had managed not to use all the shampoo in the little bottle on the tray (for once, since he usually used it all up if he got the first shower and Sam swore he did it on purpose.)

He used up the little bar of soap and then hunched his shoulders so he could turn. Putting a hand against the wall for support, he leaned forward to let hot water pour over his head, streaming shampoo and soap down over his shoulders and back. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly as water and soaked hair covered his face, forcing himself to relax. It was the first time he could remember being awake and refreshed, alert and also, alone.

Solitude was thing that the Winchester brothers very rarely had. Dean hated it. He hated being alone. High tension and danger were Dean’s natural way of life. Pressure relaxed him better than all the quiet moments in the world. But Sam relished calm and quiet, sought it every chance he got. Solitude gave him time to clear his head and gather his thoughts, put things in order and in perspective.

Right now he was pretty sure that he should just stop thinking, rinse off and get out of the shower as quickly as he could. He should seek the company of his brother, get into a ridiculous argument about something that didn’t matter and would be forgotten about soon enough.

Because what he was thinking might get him into serious trouble. What he was thinking was something that Dean would absolutely hate and the four most fatal things when Sam was considering a course of action were the words _Dean will hate it._

But it could also be the answer he was looking for, the end to the Apocalypse…..

Probably both.

The idea had first occurred to him when Bobby had been able to take control of the demon possessing him. He had dismissed it, or tried to. Bobby was strong and it had only been a demon after all; and the control hadn’t been completely successful. Bobby had been able to fire a shot and that shot had put him permanently in a wheelchair.

But Bobby’s actions and Bobby’s success had reminded Sam that once, in what seemed like another lifetime, his own father had been able to control the demon Azazel.

Sam had still managed to dismiss the idea. His father would always be something larger than life to him, something so great that Sam himself could never aspire to be like that.

And yet, there was still the idea, tucked in the back of his mind and a little voice whispering to him that Sam was a Winchester. It was in his bloodline to be great. It was in his bloodline to be strong. He had quieted the voice, ignored the thoughts, squashed the idea.

But now he’d been reminded of it again. Julia – Jesse’s birth mother – had also been able to take control of her demon.

It was possible. It might be even more possible to take control of an angel who needed permission to possess a person.

Lucifer was an angel…..

If Sam was successful in what he was considering, he could wind up in something much worse than a wheelchair – caged or watching the world burn because of his actions.

Trying to stop his thoughts from going to the only possible conclusion of that logic, Sam remembered what Raeth had said about her fallen brother.

_“Lucifer is a dragon like me the way a tiger is like a newborn house cat. He is the great serpent of Revelation. He is beautiful and horrible to behold. He is scarlet and crimson and gold. He is fire and he is power….."_

The way she had spoken had made Sam shiver then and it did so again, in spite of the hot water. He was considering jumping out a frying pan and into a deadly pit fraught with danger and an uncertain outcome.

In his life first being raised as a hunter, Sam had learned two things. No one had never consciously taught him these things but he had figured them out on his own: thinking with no intention of acting was ineffective and action without thought was a good way to get yourself and a lot of other people killed.

People were already dying. So he was going to have to think about this and make a decision – and soon.

He twisted around, bent backwards and let the water wash his hair off his face. He was standing there trying not to fall over, trying to clear his thoughts, when Dean banged a fist on the bathroom door so hard the doorframe shook and hollered,

“SAM! What the hell are you doing in there?”

Sam jerked upright so fast he smacked his forehead on the showerhead. Cursing under his breath, he rubbed at the bruise with one hand and turned the shower off with the other.

“Be right there!” He hollered back.

Annoyed, Sam toweled off and got into his jeans. It was too hot and steamy in the bathroom to get into anything else. He opened the door and stepped out into the main room.

Dean was sitting at the table with the laptop running. Raeth and Castiel were standing by the beds, close together and speaking softly. Sam watched them all for a moment, roughly scrubbing a towel through his dripping hair. Dean finally looked up and said, offhandedly,

“The lovebirds made up apparently.”

Castiel glanced at Dean sharply. “What lovebirds?” He asked, clearly confused.

Dean stared back at him and sighed. “The two of you,” he explained.

“Raeth and I are not birds. We are angels,” Cas clarified, and then added, as if he thought Dean needed further assistance in understanding. “You shouldn’t let the wings confuse you.”

Sam cut in before Dean could say another word. “He just means that it’s good you aren’t yelling at each other anymore.” He paused and gave them a considering look. “You aren’t mad at Cas anymore? Right, Raeth?”

“I wasn’t ever angry with him,” Raeth said, “Frustrated, perhaps. At least I’ve gotten him to agree not to go after the boy alone again.”

Dean looked up in alarm. Sam stopped toweling his hair and stared. “You’re not going after him again _at all_. Are you?” Sam demanded.

Raeth and Cas exchanged a communicative look. “Perhaps not either of us, no. But we have a plan.”

Dean twisted around in the chair and flung an arm over the back of it.

“Oh this ought to be good,” he drawled, skeptically, “What plan have the two of you concocted to deal with the Antichrist?”

Cas seemed to sigh in resignation. Raeth quietly asked, “Do either of you know the angel Kokabiel?”

“No,” Dean said at the same time Sam said,”Yes.”

Dean rolled his eyes in a gesture that said _of course._ Sam ignored it and went on, “One of the 20 Watchers assigned to guard the fallen angels after the rebellion, according to the Book of Enoch. Isn’t he also now a fallen angel?”

“No,” Raeth answered. “That was a ruse to draw out Satan, and it worked. Kokabiel is a holy angel and the commander of 365,000.”

“So what’s he got to do with the Antichrist?” Dean demanded.

“Raethaniel wants to petition him to use his legions to search for the boy and attempt to bring him in.”

Sam blinked. “That sounds like a good plan, actually.”

Cas looked disgruntled. Raeth frowned, trying to understand why Sam sounded surprised. “It will mean that I have to return to Heaven and attempt to be allowed access to the Seventh Level. We think I stand the best chance of being successful because of Michael.”

“Why wouldn’t you have access? You’re an angel, right?” Dean wondered.

“I am an angel of the Third Heaven,” she explained, “I have to request permission to enter the levels above mine.”

“You think Michael will let you in?” Sam asked.

“I believe he will,” Raeth answered, “But I may be gone for a little bit. I’ll still be watching over you. But the Seventh level of Heaven can be a complicated place.”

“You’ll be safe, won’t you?” Sam asked anxiously. He remembered with crystal clarity that the last time Raeth had been in heaven, she had been imprisoned and tortured.

“Yes,” she answered, “Castiel is going to watch over me and send for Lamechiel if he thinks there will be trouble. But I will be all right.”

Sam took a moment and absorbed that. He didn’t like it. But he was pretty sure he didn’t have a say in the matter. He walked over to her and stopped well inside her personal space. He touched her arm and kissed her forehead. He held the soft, silken kiss for a long chaste moment, eyes closed while Raeth stood perfectly still, leaning into him.

When Sam finally broke the kiss and opened his eyes, Raeth turned her face into his shoulder and he felt hot, wet tears against his skin. He stroked her hair with gentle fingers, startled and unsure what to say.

Raeth looked up in the next instant and her eyes were dry again.

“I’ll be fine,” she repeated and Sam knew that sometimes the words that were spoken aloud were not the words that wanted to be said.

“I know you will,” Sam answered.

Castiel and Raeth dissolved. The rush of wings lifted Sam’s damp hair as they departed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	82. Thanks, Uncle Bobby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A "then" chapter which will be followed by a "now" chapter

**Then:**

Bobby Singer had met a lot of hunters. But he’d never known one quite like John Winchester; mostly because he didn’t know any other hunters who dragged his children along with him. On a good day, Bobby could talk John into leaving the boys with him. On a bad day Bobby had no choice but to wave goodbye from the rickety front porch, never knowing when he was going to see them again. John might decide to stay in one place for months at a time, in some other state, put the boys in the local public school and Bobby would have no way of contacting them, or knowing when he would see them again.

When the Winchesters had shown up two days ago with Sam, 9 years old, sick and feverish in the back seat of the Impala, Bobby had been at first worried and then kind of relieved when it seemed obvious that John wanted to stay for a little while. Sam was clearly down with something and the Impala needed some engine work.

It turned out Sam had an ear infection and the Impala needed a new head gasket among other multiple but more minor things. The Impala was actually a tougher fix, since parts for a 1967 automobile were becoming rare and dear. Bobby was working on rounding them up and John was out in the yard with Dean, installing them and fine tuning other things on the Impala while they waited for the rest to arrive.

Sam was on the mend after a regiment of antibiotics that had been brought up from Mexico (where they were available over the counter) by another hunter who had owed Bobby a favor. In their line of work, Bobby liked to keep a supply on hand. He’d used the antibiotics for bites, cuts, knife wounds, gunshot wounds – a whole assortment of injuries that came from the dangers they faced. It was the first time he had ever doctored a little boy with them.

Sam was remarkably resilient, considering the crap diet the kid was getting when he was on the road, and he fought off the infection pretty quickly. He looked skinny to Bobby and, once the meds started working and Sam was looking more alert, Bobby had started cooking bigger and more nutritional meals. He found out that Sam like peanut butter – a lot, not surprising since that was probably the only protein he got most days. Bobby then learned just how many things he could make with peanut butter.

Breakfast had been peanut butter French toast. Even Dean had said it was good, though John had bolted it down with a side of bacon and eggs, grunted something that sounded like thanks and then gone out to the yard to work on the Impala again. Bobby doubted John had even taste it. At least the guy had stopped and ruffled Sam’s hair before heading out the door, checking the kid’s fever without really seeming to.

Sometimes John Winchester made Bobby Singer mutter under his breath.

It was late in the afternoon when Bobby brought Sam a dish of crunchy Jif and a plate of carrots sticks as a snack before dinner. The boy was curled up in a chair by the grimy window, leaning his cheek on his hand and watching John and Dean bent over under the open hood of the car. His face was solemn, as it always was, Bobby had noticed. Sam turned to look at him with those huge soulful eyes but his expression brightened when he saw the snack. He unwound a little bit and said, “Thanks,” while reaching for a carrot stick.

Bobby sat down in the chair opposite Sam and watched a bit as he ate. Sam kept glancing out the window but remained silent.

“You could go out and help ‘em, if you wanted. You’re feeling better,” Bobby observed.

Sam quickly looked away from the window, as if he had done something wrong.

“Nah,” he said, dipping a carrot in the peanut butter. “The car is their thing.”

Bobby frowned but Sam was too intent on staring at his snack to see it. This kid spent every waking moment with John and Dean. What exactly was John’s ‘thing’ with his youngest son?

“What do you like to do, Sam?” Bobby asked.

The boy shrugged. “Read, I guess,” he answered.

Bobby kept watching Sam for a while longer, unsure what to do or to say and only knowing that he wanted to say _something._ Then he remembered the boxes in the attic, the ones he had packed up with the rest of his wife’s things and left there to be forgotten. He couldn’t remember what she liked to read, the way he couldn’t remember a lot of things about her (except that they had been happy and she had been wonderful). But there might be some books in those boxes that a 9 year old might like. There were also old National Geographics and some other things packed away that Sam might like.

He waited until Sam was finished eating, watched him lick the peanut butter bowl clean and didn’t even call him out on table manners over it. The kid had learned not to waste food.

Then Bobby stood up and said, “Come on up to the attic with me. I’ve got some boxes I need help moving around.”

Sam looked puzzled but he stood up and followed Bobby obediently.

The attic was cold and dusty and Bobby had to stoop to get under the eaves to the plastic crates he had used to store the old books. Sam helped him move other things out of the way. Then Bobby opened the first one and it was everything he had been hoping. Karen had really liked the classics. The box contained _Catcher in the Rye, A Wrinkle in Time, The Little Prince, Black Beauty, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn…_ There were some classic sci-fi books by Heinlein and Asimov too.

Gazing into the box, Sam’s eyes got big. Bobby pushed it closer to him.

“Take your pick,” he offered.

“Really?” Sam seemed daze.

“Yeah, go ahead. They aren’t doing anyone any good stuck up here in this dusty place.”

Sam nodded and picked as many as he thought he could carry downstairs. Bobby put the lid back on and said, “Come up and get some more any time you want.”

Sam still looked a little dazed but he nodded and then remembered to say “Thanks, Uncle Bobby.”

Once back downstairs, Sam returned to the chair by the window. He made a neat pile of books on the floor beside it and then picked one – Heinlein’s _Farmer in the Sky_. The book was nearing antique stage but Sam didn’t seem to mind. Climbing back into the chair he curled up again, opened the hardback cover, and began to read.

Bobby continued to watch Sam from the doorway for a while. There was no doubt the kid was smart, and perceptive and who knew what he’d learn from the bounty of knowledge Bobby had just opened for him,

But it felt right. It felt good. Sam might not have a ‘thing’ with John, but at least now he had his own thing. Bobby grunted in satisfaction and went off to start dinner.

(0)

 

 

 

 

 


	83. Just a Little Boy

Sam wondered if he would ever get used to the angels simply appearing from nothing. But his reflexes were too well-honed not to react as if it was a threat, every single time. So when Raeth was suddenly walking beside him on the way to the health clinic he jumped sideways and pulled a knife out of his jacket pocket. The knife was in his hand and he was braced for a fight before his brain could register who it was.

“Dammit, Raeth,” he muttered, expression twisted into a momentary scowl of annoyance, “Don’t _do_ that.”

“I apologize,” she said, sincerely. Her eyes were wide, puzzled, as if she was still dealing with the idea that he couldn’t sense her at all.

As if she had somehow gotten used to the idea that she could no longer sense him.

“I can’t really tell where you are,” she added slowly. “I didn’t mean to arrive almost on top of you.”

Sam’s irritation faded instantly. He was in a foul mood, but none of that was Raeth’s fault. He slipped the knife back into his pocket and gathered her inside the circle of his impossibly long arms.

“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said.

In the midst of the guilt he was feeling, the stress of fighting and the uncertainty of his future, being with Raeth made Sam unreasonably happy. He wasn’t sure that he understood why; nor was he sure that he wanted to understand. He lived in a dangerous world. If he saw a chance to be happy, he wasn’t going to let it slip away.

He hugged her tight, probably too tight for a PDA – bent over, face in her hair. But the street was mostly deserted and no one seemed to notice; and Sam just didn’t care. It scared him every time she left to return to Heaven. He was so relieved that all he wanted to do was hold onto _this_ moment because he was never sure what the next moment would be like. He unwound from her reluctantly and only because his back was starting to kink.

“How did you find me?” Sam asked.

“I found Bobby,” Raeth answered, looking up, anxious and curious, hands still resting on his biceps. “They told me you were walking to a health clinic and what direction you were going. Why do you need a health clinic?”

“I need a shot,” he answered.

Raeth tilted her head. “You need a shot? From a gun?”

Sam laughed. “No. It a medical thing.”

“Why do you need a medical shot?”

Sam shrugged, put his arm around her shoulders and began walking down the street again.

“Some guy gave me an std,” he said, off-handedly. At her blank expression he clarified, “Sexually transmitted disease.”

Raeth’s eyebrows climbed straight up into her hairline. Her mouth opened and then closed again abruptly. It still took Sam a second or so to process what he had said.

“Oh, no not like that,” he said, running the words together. “The guy was a douchey evil warlock stealing years off people’s lives. He got pissed at me and well, that’s what he did – infected me, not stole years from me. Fortunately it’s pretty treatable.”

Raeth stopped walking, forcing Sam to stop too. She whirled around to face him.

“Has this warlock been neutralized?” She asked.

There were times Sam was chilled to the bone by his guardian angel, when her eyes were dragon-faceted and her voice was ancient with power. She was terrifying and beautiful at the same time. She was an angel. _His_ angel.

“It’s been taken care of,” Sam said, quickly. “There was a spell. We cast it. It should be… No, it _is_ over.”

It took a moment but Raeth seemed mollified. She reached up and pressed two fingers against his forehead. Warmth spread over him, tingling.

“Now it’s over,” Raeth said, definitively, as she lowered her hand.

Sam considered that and then smiled dryly. “No need to go to the health clinic?”

“None,” she shook her head and smiled back at him.

“Thanks,” Sam said, a little shyly. Then, “If you found me by finding Bobby, then could…. Could your brother do the same thing?”

Raeth looked away, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Bobby wouldn’t tell him where you were, any more than I would. I doubt he’d waste his time. Besides, I…. I’m not sure he’s even looking for you. He’s pretty convinced you’re going to come to him.”

Raeth saw the way Sam’s jaw clenched, the hard narrowing of his eyes.

“Well I hate to disappoint him but that isn’t going to happen,” Sam said, tightly. They walked a few more paces with Raeth struggling to keep up with him. Sam glanced down at her briefly and then fixed his eyes straight ahead again. “What makes you say that?”

Raeth shook her head. “I just know him. I know how he thinks. How arrogant he really is.”

Sam digested that, considering it and not liking at all the conclusion that he came to. But he didn’t want to talk about Lucifer, not today, not after his idiot brother had almost given away his life in the middle of trying to stop the end of the world.

He changed the subject.

“How did it go in…. Back home? Did you talk to Kokabiel? Are they trying to find Jesse?”

“Yes, I saw him and talked to him.” A shadow passed over her expression, full of pain and a kind of subdued grief.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, quickly.

“Heaven,” she answered and then paused, seeming to shudder a bit. “It’s not…. As I remember it….”

Sam touched her chin and then her cheek. Raeth curled her fingers around his wrist and smiled.

“Heaven is my problem,” she said, “though there isn’t anything I can do about it at the moment. So, I will concentrate on my current assignment, which happens to be you. Are _you_ all right?”

Sam sighed. “Since I don’t need another shot of penicillin, I think I really need a beer.”

“It’s 11 o’clock in the morning,” Raeth pointed out.

“So I’ll have one with an early lunch. Fortunately I know every bar in this town.”

Raeth glanced around. “Is there any chance you know of one in a better neighborhood?”

Sam snorted a little. “A hunter and an angel are pretty safe just about anywhere aren’t they?”

“I wouldn’t enjoy having to hurt someone, Sam. A demon or a supernatural threat to you is not a problem. But it’s difficult for me to harm a human being, even one with dishonorable intentions.”

“You were ready to take apart the warlock who infected me a few short minutes ago,” Sam reminded her.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. I just said it would be difficult.”

Sam’s smile was bittersweet and resigned. But he understood. There were people he loved, people he would protect with his own life, no matter what he had to do.

“Okay,” he said. “But Dean has the car. So unless you can zap us-“

He broke off because a moment later they were standing in front of a bar and grill on a pretty respectable looking street. Of course Sam knew that was kind of relative. The guy behind the cash register could be a demon. The nice old couple in the corner booth could be evil gods….

“Will this do?” Raeth asked.

“Yeah,” Sam answered. He held the door and ushered her inside.

They got a secluded horseshoe shaped booth and their server gave Sam a speculative look when Sam turned down the recommendation for the Lumberjack Burger and ordered the salmon quinoa salad instead, with a beer. But he smiled politely and asked what Raeth wanted. Sam told him she’d have the same but with water.

When their server walked away, Sam leaned forward to rest his arms on the table and asked her quietly,

“I need to know what happened with Kokabiel, even if your home is a sore subject for you.”

“Why?” Raeth asked.

Sam didn’t answer right away. He looked away, eyes troubled – storm cloud gray.

“Because my brother and I found him,” Sam answered. “You wouldn’t even know who to look for if not for us. But he’s just a little boy-“

“That’s a vessel, Sam,” Raeth said, sharply.

“No, it isn’t.” Sam cut her off just as sharply, every word punctuated and delivered on its own exhale. “I know how vessels work. There’s no one else in that one but Jesse – a scared little boy and we just ripped away everything that was giving him stability.”

“You mean his adopted family that had no idea what they were dealing with and were filling his head with dangerous lies?” Raeth countered.

“It was his _family_ ,” Sam said, “People who love him even if they were screwing up, people who could help him fight it.”

They both fell silent for a while, glaring into each other’s eyes; until sudden realization dawned in Raethaniel’s.

“You’re projecting yourself onto him,” she whispered softly.

Sam confirmed it when the anger melted out of his eyes and he looked away, glancing to the side to stare pointedly at the wall. He swallowed convulsively, the muscles in his throat and jaw rippling.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. But Jesse is _not_ you. A demon _conceived him._ It’s part of his DNA. It’s not even a little bit like what Azazel did to you.”

“Poisoning me, you mean,” Sam said bitterly.

“I said I don’t want to hurt you,” Raeth said tightly. “But you’re the one who started this. What Azazel did to you was unconscionable, but it can’t touch your soul the way your family does. Your family saves you.Your _brother_ saves you. That _thing_ is not you and it never will be. That thing is a monster of Biblical proportions and it always will be.”

“That _thing_ is still just a child,” Sam protested, putting a different emphasis on the word than Raethaniel had, an emphasis filled with sympathy. “He could have killed Castiel and he didn’t. He could have killed the demon possessing his mother and he didn’t. He’d not a killer. Not yet. He deserves a chance.”

“He drove the demon from his mother with a word, Sam,” Raeth reminded him, knowing that Sam heard every word as if he was being slapped. “You’ve driven out demons and you know what it takes, what you have to do, what you have to sacrifice and the risk you have to take to do that. Imagine the power contained in that small husk of a child. Imagine what time will do to it.”

Pain flickered in Sam’s eyes but it did little to stop his determination to defend the boy he knew as Jesse.

“So the angels will kill him,” Sam said and now his eyes grew moist, though he tried to blink it away. “Without ever giving him a chance”

“Not at first,” Raeth said.

Surprised, Sam looked up. “What?”

“Michael ordered them to look for the boy but not to engage.”

“Why?” Sam demanded.

His shimmering eyes were like needle stabs to Raethaniel’s heart, but she held steady.

“You think an archangel explains himself to me?” Raeth asked, incredulous. “Kokabiel told me those were his orders before he left with his legions. But even he doesn’t know why.”

“To search for Jesse,” Sam said, grimly.

“You knew that was my reason for returning to Heaven,” Raeth said.

They were interrupted when their food arrived. Sam ignored the salad and downed half the mug of beer before speaking again.

“At the time I just wanted someone to find him,” he explained, setting the mug down so hard the beer sloshed and threatened to spill over. “Then I realized the angels are dicks and they would try to kill him.”

Raeth frowned. “That’s my family you’re talking about.”

Sam bit back a sarcastic retort about the vast majority of her family, clamped his mouth shut for a moment and swallowed again.

“I don’t want to take any more of my bad mood out on you,” Sam said, finally, reaching for his fork and the salvation of eating so they didn’t have to talk anymore. “You didn’t do anything.”

Raeth fought down the surge of _something_ in her heart. Her eyes fastened on the hand he had wrapped around his fork, his long fingers and graceful movements. But the feeling remained. Her need to guard Sam had mutated into something more, something multilayered, overlaid with deep tenderness, unexpected and subtle. She wanted to understand it but she couldn’t.

There was still moisture clinging to his lashes and she had to resist reaching across the table to wipe them dry.

“Are you going to try the salad?” Sam asked, breaking her thoughts.

“Yes,” she said, wondering why it sounded breathless.

She picked up the fork and took a few bites to satisfy him. The ritual of eating with Sam and then letting him finish her food had become pretty firmly established. But she was glad to see him eating and being normal. She didn’t even protest when he ordered the second beer, or the third one.

“Sam,” she said, after they had eaten in silence for a quite a while, the plates almost clean. She pushed what was left of hers across the table to him. “Kokabiel is not a …a dick, if I understand the way you mean it. I wouldn’t have approached him if he was. He’s done a lot of things that other angels might have had a hard time doing. We’re all obedient or at least we’re supposed to be. But Kokabiel has done things that have given him a harsh reputation. He’s even been written in history as a demon. It’s said that he’s been in league with Satan. But he’s _good,_ Sam, in spite of a lot of things he’s done. His legions follow him with a devotion he’s earned. If he can find a way to save this boy, he will.”

Sam looked startled and then relieved to her Raeth call Jesse a ‘boy’ and not a ‘thing’, even if there wasn’t much affection in her voice when she did so. He stabbed his fork into a piece of salmon with more force than necessary.

“I hope so,” he said.

But there was little hope in his voice and less in his eyes.

“He will, Sam,” she insisted.

Sam regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and then signaled the waiter to order another beer.

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	84. Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing scenes and tags to Changing Channels

Angels could always see each other’s true form, no matter the vessel. So when Castiel finally faced the Trickster and looked into his eyes, Cas knew who it was instantly. He barely had time to send the information to Raeth on a very, very narrow thread before Gabriel cast him away into a dimension Cas did not recognize and was uncertain how to leave.

But Raeth got the message. _Gabriel has them trapped in an illusion._ She was stunned at first, then furious, alternately ready to weep with relief that she knew where Sam (and Dean) were and then laugh with the exasperated joy of finding her long lost older brother. She waited in the shadows of the abandoned warehouse, knowing Gabriel would reappear there eventually. She and Castiel had tracked the Impala to the warehouse and from there Cas had managed to find the brothers. It had taken most of his strength – the considerable power of a Seraph of the Seventh Heaven – to find them. It had weakened him and left him no match for an archangel.

Raeth knew that even at her most powerful, Gabriel could end her with a wave of his hand.

But he wasn’t expecting her to be there, so when she stepped out and quietly said his name, Gabriel whirled around in surprise.

“Gabriel?”

He recognized her instantly, of course. His eyes narrowed dangerously, looking at her with wary suspicion.

“Hello, Raeth,” he said.

Then she surprised him again. She crossed the distance between them with angelic speed and flung her arms around his neck.

It was a horrible breach of protocol. No one attack hugged the archangels. Most of them were singularly unapproachable.

“Whoa!” Gabriel said, at first lifting his arms up out of the way and looking annoyed and then resigned.

At last he lowered his arms and returned the embrace. Truthfully, he was stunned. He had not expected any of his angel brothers and sisters to be happy to see him. He had been hiding for millennia, refusing to be found.

“You’re alive,” Raeth said, stating the obvious.

“And you seem oddly happy about that,” Gabriel answered, stepping back, holding her at arms’ length. “What’s going on?”

“You were the only one of the archangels that I ever loved,” Raeth answered. “All the others made me feel small and weak. I worshipped them but I never truly loved them. I lived always in their much larger shadow. But not you - working with you always made me feel as if I lived in a…glow. When you disappeared, it was like a part of my home was gone.”

Gabriel let go of her and turned away, unwilling to let her see how much that had moved him.

“What are you doing here, Raeth?” His voice was tense, deliberately neutral.

“I am trying to find and save Sam Winchester,” she answered.

Gabriel turned back around abruptly, wondering how many times in one afternoon his little sister could surprise him.

“Why? Shouldn’t you be back home guarding one of the gates?

“I was released from that duty to guard Sam Winchester; hence my concern when he disappeared a few days ago and now my confusion to find you as the cause of it.”

Gabriel was pretty sure he had no response to that. So he just stood and stared at her. His eyes were piercing, savagely reminding her that he was an archangel. She thought it might have surprised him that she didn’t look away. Any of the others – Uriel, Raphael, Azrael, Jeremiel – would have had Raeth trembling on her knees if they looked at her like that.

But Gabriel had never filled her with the same fear. Respect yes. But never fear.

After a while Raeth said very quietly,

“Gabriel, why are you doing this to them?”

He didn’t answer, just continued regarding her with a gaze so dark that not a single star shown to diminish it. Raeth shivered a little. His vessel was a handsome man, borderline adorable really. Raeth could see the archangel within.

“You really don’t know?” Gabriel asked.

“You agree with the angels who have set all this in motion?” Raeth asked. “You want this madness? You aren’t going to get it torturing Sam and Dean with this illusion.”

“How do you know that?” Gabriel demanded, his voice echoing in the deserted room.

“I know Sam and Dean!” She cried, “I know that you can’t force them to do anything. They can be led, with love, but they can’t be pushed.”

She fell silent, knowing that the only real way to force one brother was to threaten the other. But she wouldn’t tell Gabriel that. He should have figured it out himself after killing Dean over and over on that fateful Tuesday. Gabriel didn’t know she knew about that, didn’t know that Sam had told her about the demi-god they had called the Trickster.

Gabriel couldn’t threaten either brother though, not without incurring the considerable wrath of Michael and Lucifer.

“They’re going to figure this out,” Raeth warned him, “They are remarkably intelligent and Castiel has already given them a clue.”

Gabriel laughed then, carelessly, holding open his arms. Sarcastically, he said, “And what are they going to do? I’m an archangel.”

“They’ll do something,” Raeth said. She had a few ideas but she didn’t want to give them away. “Gabriel, please, I beg you. Let them go. I can’t do anything against you. You know that. But for the love of our father, let them go.”

It was a mistake but she didn’t realize it until the words were already spoken. Gabriel’s eyes flared in anger.

“Our _father_?” He demanded. “You think I love our father? I ran away from home because of what he did to us, the chaos he created. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I walked away from all that and now it’s all here again. You think I’ve been hiding out down here for millennia because I still love our _Father_? _”_

He ended on a shout full of pain and hurt, fists balled at his sides, eyes blazing as only the eyes of a righteously angry archangel can blaze. Raeth’s breath caught in her chest and she almost fell to her knees. Her spine seemed suddenly made of water.

But she walked over to him, shaking. She approached cautiously but when he didn’t move or even blink, Raeth put one hand up against the back of her brother’s head and pulled him down until their foreheads were touching. She shut her eyes, because that close, Gabriel was even more intimidating.

“Yes, my brother,” she whispered “I think you still love him very much. I think you always have. You wouldn’t be so angry right now if you didn’t. It all right. I feel that way, too. But lately I think I understand the vision our father had for humanity; and it _can’t_ end like this. It can’t end in fire and famine and war and destruction.”

He remained still and then stepped back, untangling from her.

“You understand his vision?” Gabriel asked, sounding sarcastic and dismissive. But there was grudging respect and wistful curiosity in his voice too.

“I might, a little,” she answered, “because of Sam and Dean.”

“Because of those two?” Gabriel looked incredulous.

“Yes,” Raeth said, drawing herself up and standing straight. “They are the most unselfish, brave, kind, loyal, caring, intelligent beings I have ever known. They are the best of mankind, in every single possible way. They are the possibility our father saw when he looked into the future. Gabriel, my beloved brother, Sam and Dean are meant for better thing than to become the vessels for two archangels who just want to kill each other and destroy the world.”

“Wasn’t that all part of our father’s vision of the future, too?” He asked, sardonically.

“No,” she said, “I don’t believe it was. Look how many things he put in place to prevent it? It only exists because of the animosity between Lucifer and the rest of us, especially of the other archangels. He certainly never foresaw his own children unraveling everything and trying to bring the apocalypse into being. Please let Sam and Dean go. It’s their free will to say no. It’s their _right._ ”

“Don’t you just want all this to end, Raeth?” Gabriel asked, sadly. “Don’t you just want it to be over?”

Raeth gazed back at him with tears forming in her eyes. “Give them a chance and I believe they _will_ end it. Perhaps not the way we envisioned, but our vision is limited. Let them out, let them work, together. Let them surprise you.”

Gabriel regarded her solemnly. “Little sister,” he said, “I will consider it.”

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	85. Safe as Houses

Sam had not sooner shut the passenger door of the Impala when Raeth appeared in the front seat beside him. She was disheveled and her expression was distraught.

“I couldn’t find you. Are you all right?” She blurted out.

Sam was still too startled by the way she looked to answer. So Dean slammed the driver’s door for emphasis and growled,

“No thanks to your dick _brother.”_

As he climbed into the backseat, Castiel replied, gruffly. “That’s _our_ brother and only we get to call him a dick.”

Raeth turned her head sharply. “Castiel! It’s _Gabriel_.”

“Yes, I figured that out,” Cas replied, staring out the rain-streaked window. “We’re still the only ones who get to disrespect him.”

Sam glanced at Cas. “It was bad enough when we thought a Trickster, a demi-god, decided to have Dean killed over and over again a hundred times. Now we know it was another _angel.”_

Sam spoke with such venom in his voice that, beside him, Raeth inhale sharply. Castiel returned Sam’s glance with one of his own – grim and injured.

“You all know what I mean,” Sam went on, “We’ve got the two of you, and maybe Lamechiel, but the rest of your family-“ He broke off with a sigh and a shake of his head, mouth set in a straight line.

Dean grunted and turned the engine over. The Impala started up with a roar that seemed to echo the boys’ sentiments.

The skies continued to drizzle on them desolately and they continued in silence for a while. Dean seemed to know where he was going and Sam seemed to also be in on it, because he never asked. He turned onto county 611 and kept driving.

Sam had been staring resolutely out the window at the rain, with Raeth sitting statue-still beside him. Dusk was starting to fall and a sliver of bright white moon was already shining low on the horizon. When he finally looked down at her, he was horrified to see her eyes were bright with tears. She had been so quiet and so unmoving he hadn’t even known. Tears were slowly slipping passed her lashes to run down her cheeks like the raindrops on the windshield.

Sam groaned something that sounded like her name, twisted around in the crowded front seat as best as he could and gathered her in his long arms.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said.

She shook her head against his jacket. “It’s not what you said,” she murmured. ‘It’s….everything.”

“Okay, yeah, I get that,” Sam answered, stroking her hair.

He looked up just in time to see Dean glancing at him, the same message of regret in his eyes. They had started all this and now even the angels wept over it.

“Do we have some destination in mind?” Castiel asked from the backseat, sounding impatient. His voice ground like tires on gravel.

“”Safe house,” Dean answered, “It’s about 3 more hours from here. You don’t have to go if you don’t want. But me and Sam are beat and just want some peace and quiet.”

Sam nodded in agreement. Raeth pushed back enough to look up at him.

“Let me take you there now,” she said.

“Do you know where it is?” Sam asked, surprised.

“Show me on a map, think of it in your mind and I can take up there,” she said.

“I thought you couldn’t read my mind,” Sam returned.

“I can’t,” she said, “You’ll have to allow it. Please, Sam.”

Sam started to refuse, because after what they had just been through he really needed to stay with Dean. Everything he needed in the world was right there in the car, as familiar as the sound of asphalt under the tires, Dean’s hands on the wheel and their dad’s music in the cassette player. But a closer look into Raethaniel’s pleading eyes and he could see _want_ written there as if it were in neon letters. In spite of everything a sudden irrational stupid joy bubbled up inside of him, accompanied by a jolt of sexual need that stunned in its intensity.

“Okay,” Sam gave her a sweet squeeze before he let go, used his thumbs to wipe the tears off her face and then reached into his back pocket for his phone.

A few minutes later he was showing her a map that ended at a dirt road.

“It’s down that road,” Sam told her.

“Think of it and allow me to see it.”

“I only was there once,” he warned her, “When I was like 12.”

“It should be enough,” she promised and gazed into his eyes and then nodded once. She was reaching for his hand when Dean said, quickly,

“Wait. Call me when you get there,” he paused to look away from the road briefly at Sam, “Call me when you get there. Tell me what’s there – water, food, beer. I can stop somewhere to get whatever we need.”

“Okay,” Sam said.

Raeth took his hand and they dissolved with a snap of wings. Castiel wasted no time in evaporating out of the backseat and solidifying again in the front. Dean shot him a glare that seemed to say _that’s Sam’s spot._

But there was no real bite in the look and, truthfully, Dean was glad to have him there.

(0)

The safe house was very much as Sam had remembered it – miles back along a pitted dirt road that was going to make Dean curse, buried in the woods, a 3 room log cabin with a stone fireplace. It was dusty but that was to be expected. Sam wasn’t sure which group of hunters had volunteered to keep it stocked but they had done a fairly good job.

After he and Raeth had appeared in the main room it had been all he could do not to instantly kiss her breathless with his big hands cradled around her lovely face. He’d been taught survival from a young age and it came first, even if he was suddenly aching to get to the skin he needed to touch.

“First things first,” he said, with a brave smile, voice shaking.

Raeth gave him a tremulous smile of understanding. They spent the next few minutes outside in the diminishing light, breathing air that smelled like snow, turning on the well and the propane so they could cook and have heat and hot water. There was a cord of firewood neatly stacked against one wall and a pile of logs waiting to be split. There was no ax in sight but Sam knew where it was stored inside. No hunter left a weapon outside unguarded.

While they were out there, a couple of white-tailed deer stepped out of the woods, uncertain but unafraid, delicate and gentle.

Raeth made a small sound of delight and approached them incautiously. Sam started to warn her that they’d be spooked but the deer didn’t move. A moment later she was kneeling in front of them, speaking softly in Enochian and stroking their faces.

Sam watched her with a tight feeling growing in his chest and tears pricking his eyes.

She was so impossibly lovely, heartbreakingly real and he felt his faith being restored.

Raeth stood up and the deer began grazing on the high grass behind the house. She watched them a little while and then stood up again, brushed the dirt off the knees of her jeans and returned to Sam. His hand slid over hers and laced their fingers. He leaned in for a kiss that was chaste but full of desire. He licked his lips when they broke apart; a half smile curved his mouth and then broke wider before he got it under control. A little breath of their mingled laughter filled the air.

Still holding hands they returned to the house.

Once back inside Sam opened cupboards and took stock while Raeth built up a fire. Then he called Dean, who answered immediately.

“ _What took you so long?”_

Sam smirked a little because it would have been easy to get frustrated with Dean but at the moment he understood.

“We’re here. We’ve got heat, firewood, water’s running clean out of the pipes; mac and cheese in the blue box, cans of vegetables and beef stew’-“

“ _None of which you’ll eat_ ,” Dean grunted.

“Well, it’s not like I’ll make myself starve, but, yeah. If you’re going to stop somewhere anyway-“

“ _Got it. Bring food.”_

“Food, Dean,” Sam said, firmly. “Not food like substances. We’ve already got those.”

“ _Yeah_ _I got it,”_ Dean drawled and he sounded disinterested and maybe even annoyed, but Sam knew he was neither.

The connection clicked off before Sam could embarrass them both by telling his brother to drive safe.

The fire was crackling by now, little but clearly on its way to being a cheerful blaze. Raeth stood up and turned to Sam. She had a smudge of soot on her cheek. It was adorable.

He walked up to her in slow, deliberate steps.

“Hey you’ve got some…,” he whispered it, although there was no one to hear them. Then he brushed a thumb across her cheek, his fingers resting on her neck, feeling the way her pulse fluttered and then raced.

He managed to do little more than smear the soot even further, which made him huff out a breath of laughter again.

“Yeah,” Raeth said, vague and uncaring, as she pulled his head down to hers.

Now Sam kissed her breathless and thoroughly, big hands on either side of her head, slow and easy, as if he wasn’t burning hotter than the fire. Raeth whimpered a little and curled her fists into his shirt, under his jacket, and began pulling it out of his jeans.

“I couldn’t find you,” she murmured, a tremor of panic causing her voice to tremble.

“I’m right here,” he whispered. It was firm, reassuring.

“But you weren’t. I thought Lucifer-“

“Shhh,” he hushed, soft and kind, still kissing, suckling her lips, tongue teasing.

“Our brothers are on their way,” she reminded him.

“Hours away by car still and they have to stop for groceries.”

“ _Sam_.” She was pleading now, still hanging on his kiss because there was no way to pull back from it. She knew they had hours. So there would be time for slow and easy later. He grinned against her mouth – _okay, okay….._

Then he was shrugging his way out of his jacket, bent over, lips still searching hers…...

 

 

 


	86. Unmoored

The bed frustrated them when they finally managed to make their way into the bedroom. It was a double and the quilts and sheets were still all packed away, wrapped in plastic and stuffed into the old trunk in the corner.

Sam made do with pulling out the oversized bedspread and tossing it haphazardly over the mattress. He was shucking off his shirt and toeing off his boots before the blanket had completely settled. His boots gave him further frustration, refusing to come off without being untied. He sat down on the bed and yanked at the laces, already panting so hard he could hear himself.

Freed of boots and socks, Sam stood to shed his jeans and briefs. Before he was done Raeth had pounced into the middle of the bed, grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him backward so that he landed in a sprawl of arms and legs, laughing again, startled breath whooshing out of him.

Raeth pushed him flat and straddled him. Sam didn’t miss the fact that she had lost all of her clothes somewhere along the way, without any help from him at all. He gazed up at her, chest heaving with excitement, numb to anything but wanting her. Raeth was smiling at him. Her expression was completely open, unschooled and vulnerable. Her eyes were soft and slightly glazed as her gaze roamed over him in deep appreciation.

Sam looked back and saw as he had seen the deer – delicate and wild at the same time. Their eyes met, focused on each other as they connected; and Sam drowned in deep brown velvet. Her hands came down flat on his chest, fingers spread as they traveled over the planes of muscle, tracing tendrils of fire over his skin. Sam’s hips lifted, seeking touch, because she was still tantalizingly far away, up on her knees and tilted forward.

“Raeth,” he gasped.

Then he rolled them over effortlessly, so that they were lying side by side. His naked thigh slid between hers, heavy and firm. One hand came to rest on her waist. He put the other arm around her, hand drifting down to press against her lower back, pulling her closer.

“Raeth,” he said again, low and rough; and then he kissed her again. This kiss was not easy. It was possessive and demanding, fraught with need.

Then they were moving, groping, tussling with each other, wrestling over which one would be on top and surrendering momentarily, only to toss again on the threadbare quilt, tangling it around them.

They sat up at one point and Raeth climbed onto his lap. She clenched a fist tight in Sam’s hair and pulled his head back, kissed his neck, sucked the sweet hard lines of muscle and tendons. Sam went wild over it, hips surging upward, blindly seeking, gunshot grip on her hips. Her fingers tickled down over his abs, found his straining cock and wrapped around it.

Sam arched, teeth clenched for a moment until he had to breathe, tendons standing out on his neck. Raeth could feel that he was achingly hard, heart hammering in his chest. His head dropped forward onto her shoulder, breath hissing through his clenched teeth in time to the rhythm of her strokes. He stayed that way for as long as he could because it was good…. It was _fucking_ good. But there was a part of his brain still functioning – the one that told him her pleasure should come first and he was getting close… so close.

He curled his fingers around her wrist and said, “Raeth, wait.”

The fingers she had gripped in his hair tightened. She started to tip over backwards, pulling him with her, legs still wrapped around his hips.

“No,” she said, “We don’t have to. Just take me, Sam.”

He wanted that. He wanted to take her so hard, drive her into the mattress and the twisted quilt. But he managed to hold back and enter slowly, so slowly that Raeth was out of her mind and whimpering by the time he was all the way in and his hips settled against hers.

The slow entry became a slow, fluid thrusting, stroke after slow stroke, each one just a teasing touch. It was designed to keep them both from climaxing, deep enough for pleasure beyond imagining but too gentle for anything else; so deliberate they both knew what he was doing.

 _Sam_ , Raeth thought and something must have slipped because he groaned at the same time, as if he had heard her, or _felt_ it on some level – the degree to which she had come to adore him.

His thrusts quickened, shortened and became stronger. He wrapped his arms around her and crushed her against him, smothering her with his big powerful body. Raeth curled up under him, drawing her arms in and putting her hands flat against his chest, eyes closed tight, forehead pressed against his thundering heart.

Sam moved faster. Raeth’s fingers curled and his name burst from her lips. Sam groaned again and pushed her over the edge into orgasm.

For a moment Raeth was simply floating, as she did sometimes, in the dimensions, free and unmoored from her vessel. She could feel the exquisite pleasure, she could feel her vessel climaxing, contracting around Sam – still hard and moving deep inside. But she was suspended somehow, in ecstasy that had her caught between heaven and earth; ecstasy was a substance, a medium, thick and buoyant, a connection to Sam that seemed as if it would be permanent.

Then Sam seemed to freeze. He simply stopped moving for a split second in time and then he was moving again, the motion different, helpless and instinctive as he orgasmed into her Raeth snapped back hard into her vessel and struggled to focus down tight on the sensation, the pulses of his climax, the long muscular push of each shot. Sam felt as if he was lost in it. He was holding her so tightly he would have crushed a normal human, broken ribs and shattered bone. Sam came as though he'd never had sex before. Seeking to make it better for him, Raeth became nothing but bucking, clenching vessel, clinging to him with her faced smashed into his chest and the hot reality of the tears streaming down her face.

It was so good…so good… so good…..

Sam slumped downward, trying to keep his weight on his elbows and failing, shuddering through the aftershocks. The shocking, immediate, gigantic reality that was Sam washed over Raeth again. It came in waves, that awareness, sweet, sweet waves of pure love. Then Sam was pulling back, collapsing beside her, collapsing _on_ her, useless limbs sprawled, trembling arms gathering her close. Sam was all over her, stroking with shaking fingers, kissing along her hairline. He was broad and strong and heavy, and she wanted his weight on her. She could take it.

He wanted to say things – Raeth could feel the unspoken words in the air, could feel them in his mouth, in the shattered breath against her damp skin. But she silenced them by finding his mouth with hers and kissing so that he could taste the salt of tears. She wanted to speak as well and knew that she couldn’t. They both wanted to speak of love and it was impossible. She was an angel, sworn to protect, not love. She could love humanity as a whole, or as an idea; but she could not love an individual so much that her heart was breaking with it.

If Sam was falling in love with her, Raeth wasn’t quite sure. She knew that he had loved Jessica and that for a long time Sam had been certain he would never love _That Way_ again. His brief forays back into the world of putting his heart on the line had not ended well, leaving it in small, fragile pieces.

She broke off the kiss so he could draw breath and nuzzled into the damp hair curling around his neck, a gesture as sweetly natural to her as it was staggeringly strange.

“They’ll be here soon,” she said.

Sam shook his head. “Not soon. We have time,” he said, curling around her so that she almost disappeared. He was abruptly exhausted now.

“We could make the bed. You could sleep for a while.”

“I can sleep for a while without making the bed.” His voice was starting to slur.

“You’ll get cold,” Raeth pointed out.

“You’d never let that happen,” Sam returned.

Raeth smiled because it was true. She cuddled closer.

“No, I won’t,” she told him. “I’ll never let anything happen to you, Sam, if it’s within my power to stop it.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, muffled.

It seemed then that everything stopped, quiet fell around them with the darkness against the window pane, spread out like ripples on a silent pond. The only sound was the fire in the other room happily crackling and popping. Raeth settled in, her head on his chest, her leg between his thighs. They were safe for the moment and though the still air might hang chilled around them, there was no place warmer in the world.

(0)

 


	87. Verbal Smack Down

When she was certain that Sam had fallen asleep, Raeth slipped gingerly from his arms and out from under his heavy, limp body. He made a muffled sound of complaint but rolled over onto his stomach, folded his arms under his head and went boneless again.

Raeth looked down at all the long miles of Sam Winchester, unbroken by shirt and jeans, and was sharply reminded of how _much_ of him there was. The bed disappeared under him as he sprawled over it. The muscles in his back were clearly defined, flowing effortlessly down from his neck and shoulders and over his delightfully tight ass, living marble. The ends of his dark hair curled against his skin, adding something boyish to the purely masculine image.

It was a terrible weakness, a supreme failing for Raeth to want him as much as she did; to find him as beautiful as she did. It should have been devouring her peace, shaking her confidence. Instead, she felt more serenity in Sam’s presence than she had in all the long millennia of her existence.

She dug a blanket out of the trunk and put it over him. Sam didn’t as much as flinch. He was well and truly unconscious.

Once back out in the main room she put more wood on the fire and turned on the lights. There was a twin bed under the window at the opposite end of the room from the small kitchenette. Raeth assumed one of the brothers used it whenever they came to this house. There didn’t seem to be a way to share the double bed in the other room. Sam dwarfed it, barely leaving room for her slender vessel. Raeth found the sheets and blankets for it and made up the twin bed so that it looked cozy and inviting.

She checked the temperature of the fridge and found that it was still a bit warm, so she kicked it down a few degrees. She removed some of the dust and swept the worn wooden floor.

All of this she did standing in the center of the room with her hands outstretched, not moving a muscle.

When she was done she looked around with satisfaction. All that waited to be done now was for Castiel and Dean to bring food. Sam was going to wake up ravenous. She sat down on the lumpy couch; legs folded under her and then closed her eyes in meditation. She wanted to open herself to ‘angel radio’. But not quite yet.

**_*Castiel?*_ **

_*Raethaniel.*_

**_*Where are you?*_ **

_*We just left a supermarket. It took Dean forever to find the free range organic chickens.*_

**_*The what?*_ **

_*I am not certain myself. But apparently he found them because we are now on our way to the house again. How is Sam?*_

**_*Sam is exhausted. He’s asleep.*_ **

_*Dean is also very tired but he won’t let me drive.*_

**_*Just get him here safely.*_ **

_*I intend to*._

Raeth felt Castiel beginning to sever the connection and stopped him. * ** _Castiel?*_**

_*Yes?*_

**_*Have you listened to the angels? What are they saying about Gabriel?*_ **

_*No. I haven’t listened. I am…. Uncertain that I want to.*_

**_*Why?*_ **

_*I can only imagine the Heaven is in even more chaos now. We were taught to petition the archangels and one by one they’ve left us. I am not sure either of us should become involved with that kind of confusion at the moment. Our mission is the Winchesters.*_

**_*I understand. Be well, my brother.*_ **

_*And you. Take care of Sam.*_

The connection slipped away. Raeth took a moment to relax, to regain a calm center. Castiel was right. She had no way of knowing what the current state of Heaven was, but Castiel had most likely spoken the truth.

And yet she still needed to know.

Finding a still place within, Raeth opened herself to the celestial wavelength that was angelic communication.

The noise was instant and immediate. The clamor of thousands of Raeth’s brothers and sister filled her awareness. Intense. Demanding. Wondering. Stunned. So many voices all speaking at once and over and over the sound of Gabriel’s name being uttered. There was confusion and abandonment and betrayal underlying the words. It was so much easier to believe that their archangel brother had died. It was unthinkable that he had simply runaway and assumed another identity; that he had simply grown tired of them and left.

There was fighting, verbal for now but Raeth knew how her family worked. There were angels intent on remaining loyal, welcoming Gabriel home with open arms; and there were those who were condemning him as Dean Winchester had condemned him – as a coward too afraid to confront his own family. There were those begging all the others to remain calm and wait to see what happened.

The noise grew into cacophony, and from there into bedlam. Raeth was about to disconnect from it as it was becoming too much to bear when another voice spoke over the din.

It was not exactly louder than the sound of thousands of angels all speaking at once. But it held an ominous power, like the sight of a black cloud, roiling with lightning and rumbling with thunder approaching in the distance.

The sound stopped instantly, cut off as if by a switch. What followed was the sound of every knee in Heaven bending, every head bowing and wings folding in reverence. Even far below on Earth and only listening to the arguments, Raeth was tempted to fall to her knees.

_Michael……_

His voice continued, causing all who heard it to tremble. **_Enough. All of you. Be at peace. Be still. I will deal with Gabriel._**

Michael faded away and Heaven fell into silence. Raeth withdrew from the connection and sat on the battered couch, trembling.

The familiar growl of the Impala caught her attention. Headlights raked the room and then shut off. The engine stopped and there was the twin sounds of doors slamming. Boots falling heavy on the porch announced the approach of Castiel and Dean. The door opened and they entered, carrying bags of groceries.

Raeth stood up and ran to Castiel, who put the bags on the table just in time to catch her and fold her up in a tight embrace.

“I told you not to listen,” he said, quietly.

“You were listening too,” she whispered.

“Yes, of course I was,” Castiel said, hugging her a little tighter. “I am apparently not smart enough to take my own advice.”

Whether he intended it or not, Raeth laughed a little.

“What happened?” Dean asked, pulling frozen things out of the bag and putting them in the top part of the fridge. He moved and spoke in a way that was nonchalant, but he was on high alert now. It was worth paying close attention when something managed to spook two angels. Raeth’s eyes were molasses brown and wide as a doe’s.

Cas let go of her and let his hands rest on her shoulders for a moment, looking into her eyes. Cas’s eyes were crystal blue, a color that was impossible to imagine existed, enhanced by his celestial nature, layers of blue, like starlight. They were so blue they could have seemed cold. Instead, Raeth felt warm and protected by him.

Though even a Seraph was no match for Michael.

Once Cas was certain that Raeth had been comforted he let go of her entirely and turned to help Dean.

“We were given a…. what is you call it? A ‘smack down’ from our brother Michael,” Cas explained. “Verbally at least.”

Dean gaped at them. “What’d you do? You’ve been with me this whole time?”

“Not us,” Cas said, “But we were listening to the commotion in Heaven that was caused by Gabriel’s reappearance and Michael was…. Less than pleased.”

Dean processed that for a single second, decided that being smacked down by an arch angel had to suck and it was probably better if they moved on as quickly as possible. It wasn’t something that seemed to place any of them in immediate danger.

“Where’s Sam?” Dean asked, shutting the freezer.

“Right here,” Sam’s voice came from the bedroom across the cabin.

He was standing in the doorway, pulling his shirt over his head and tugging it down. It was rumpled from lying on the floor, and it was pretty clear that Sam was commando under his jeans. His hair was sexy-young-rock-star messy.

He looked like he had just gotten out of bed. He couldn’t have looked more ‘just fucked’ if he had tried.

Dean swept Sam with a measuring look and then said, “Sleep well?”

“Not long enough,” Sam said, padding into the kitchen area in his bare feet. “You want the first shower? Water’s probably hot by now.”

Dean scratched his fingers through his hair and then said, “Yeah, I think I do. There’s still stuff in the car.”

“I’ll get it,” Castiel said.

“It’s okay, I’ll go with you.”

Cas and Dean left to go out into the night again. It was raining now, a steady sleeting drizzle. The chill wind blew in and raised sparks in the fireplace before the door banged shut against it.

Sam started going through the bags, looking first surprised and then pleased. Dean had gotten bags of apples and a bunch of bananas, packages of frozen vegetables and fresh carrots, a loaf of whole grain bread, peanut butter and strawberry jam, a bag of red potatoes, organic free range chicken thighs and legs, cubes of lean meat, a couple of packages of steak, a tub of butter. Yes, there were Oreos and Doritos and Sam suspected a case of beer was coming in from the Impala. There were two pies in the bottom of a bag under a box of Snickers bars.

But Dean had made an effort to bring real food and Sam was moved by the gesture. To cover the fact that he had teared up a little, he dug around under the sink until he found a roasting pan. He was tired and being tired had the effect of turning him into an emotional wreck. He was rinsing it out when Dean and Cas came back in, carrying more groceries and two duffel bags. Dean plunked the groceries onto the table and the duffels on the floor and then turned as if he was going to say something to Sam.

But whatever he had been going to say died unspoken. Dean got a suspicious look on his face, because he didn’t understand how Sam had gone from looking sleepy and disheveled to looking like he was trying not to cry; all in the space of time it took to get groceries out of the car. He asked, gruffly, “Are you all right?”

Sam inhaled slowly and then answered, “I’m tired, but I’m too hungry to go back to sleep; and I want a shower.”

“Yeah, me too. All of the above,” Dean agreed. He was still suspicious but Sam was known to get worked up over things when he was tired.

“I’ll start some dinner,” Sam said, turning away. But he turned back again, “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

Sam gestured at the food, “Thanks.”

Dean frowned, confused. Sam had asked him to bring real food and he had done it. That didn’t seem to require thanks. But he was too tired and too hungry to think about it. He couldn’t remember when they had last eaten and his sense of time was shot to hell from living in TV Land. He nodded, grabbed his duffel off the floor and started for the only other door in the room – the one to the bathroom and a hopefully hot shower.

“Dean?” Sam said, again.

“What?”

“You want chicken or beef stew?”

“Beef,” Dean answered.

As Sam turned to the stove and reached for the package of beef cubes he grinned a little and said, under his breath, “I knew that.”

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

****

 


	88. Stronger Than Angels

**Then:**

Dean loved his little brother. He knew that he did. But Sammy had gone from being a baby who would happily drink a bottle and then eat cheerios off the coffee table to being the Toddler-From-Eating-Hell. Sammy only knew a handful of words – ut-oh, oh boy, mine, what's that, and NO, though his vocabulary increased every day. He said no most often when confronted with whatever food he was currently being served. He wouldn't eat spaghetti with sauce on it for the longest time, until Dean convinced him it was fruit juice. Now Sammy loved pas-ghettis with fruit juice; but he preferred to eat pasta with peanut butter on it, (something that made Dean gag.) He didn't like cereal with milk on it because it got too mushy. He refused to eat anything orange. He liked toast unless it actually turned brown. Dean had to pull it out of the toaster when it was still white but had gotten a little crusty. Sammy had once cried as if he had lost a leg because he found a 'string' on his banana. Explaining that it was part of the banana hadn't done a bit of good. Red apples were okay but green apples were trying to kill him. He'd eat bread with butter on it only if he didn't see anyone actually putting the butter on it; and he wouldn't eat bread with nothing on it.

This particular morning had started out fine. Dad had left them with food and said he would only be gone a few hours. There was cereal but Dean wasn't up for an argument about it being too wet. So he ate the cereal while Sammy was sleeping. Sammy had woken up finally in a good mood and Dean had plunked him in front of the TV with a clean diaper and t-shirt, and then made him breakfast. He'd had some luck recently getting his little brother to eat eggs. So he scrambled some and brought them to the little table in front of the TV.

"Breakfast, Sammy," he said.

Sammy looked at it and pouted, peering out from under his tangled hair before declaring, "No."

Dean felt his heart sink. "Why?" He asked.

Sammy looked up, grey eyes huge. "Nah mine."

Part of Dean registered that Sammy had learned a new word. He was trying to say 'not.' Dean was just thrilled that Sam had learned a new word with a negative meaning.

"Well then who's are they?" Dean asked.

"Dee's," Sammy said, eyes large and solemn.

This time Dean's heart lurched a little. Sam had learned to say his name.

"No," he said, sighing a little, "I made them for you. I already ate. I'm not hungry. These are for you."

Sammy shook his shaggy head. "Nah mine."

"Yes, they are and I'll prove it to you," Dean said.

He went to the kitchenette and got the bottle of store-brand ketchup off the tiny counter. He brought it back and knelt down beside Sam. Carefully he spelled his brother's name in his shaky lettering, because spelling was as new to Dean as words were to Sam.

"See? That says Sammy. That means they're all yours."

Sam pondered it for a moment and then leaned over to wrap thin arms around Dean's neck. His little body was sturdy and strong, warm as he clung to Dean. The kid's vocabulary was still small, but Sam's heart was as big as all outdoors.

"Dee," he said.

"Deannnnn," he replied, stressing the 'n'.

But Sammy just nodded and reached for the eggs with his fingers.

"Uh-uhn," Dean said, "Spoon."

Sammy's sigh was theatrical but he took the offered spoon and began to eat with it.

Dean settled back to watch Bugs Bunny, congratulating himself on another eating battle won. Breakfast down, lunch and dinner to go. It was going to be a long day. But Sam was worth it. He ruffled Sam's hair affectionately and Sam grinned up him around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

(0)

**Now**

Sam cooked while Dean showered. Raeth had helped Sam prepare beef stew by watching him for a moment and then finished peeling and slicing the carrots with a touch of her hand. He had looked at her in surprise for a moment and then shrugged. He was ravenous and Dean had to be too. If Raeth was willing to use the power of angels to help them get dinner on the stove faster, he wasn't going to object.

When Dean came out of the bathroom in a rush of steam, roughly drying his hair with a thin towel, in sweats and bare feet, Sam asked,

"You leave me any hot water?"

"Yeah, pretty sure," Dean replied, coming over to peer past Sam at the roasting pan simmering over two of the stove's burners. "I'll take over."

Sam had nodded, grabbed his duffel off the floor and gone into the bathroom.

Raeth had left to go make up the bed in the other room, leaving Cas and Dean to finish making dinner.

By the time they were all settled around the table the rain outside had become a steady drumming on the roof, as if Nature was applauding their decision to hole up somewhere for a few days. It hadn't been spoken out loud. But the decision as obvious in the amount of food and other provisions Dean had brought.

It was odd to watch the brothers eating the same thing at the same time. Usually Sam was eating some kind of salad while Dean ate some variation on a basic cheeseburger. But tonight they were both wolfing down stew with chunks of beef, carrots, red potatoes and peas. They were both mopping up gravy with slices of whole wheat bread and downing everything with beer. In fact the only difference seemed to be that Dean was on his second beer and Sam was drinking water in between careful sips of his.

They were also almost completely silent, eating with a fork in one hand and bread in the other, relinquishing one or the other only long enough to take a drink. They ate with the single-minded determination of men who had not seen food in a while and were used to being uncertain when such a bounty would be offered to them again.

Raeth caught Castiel's eye at one point and knew he was thinking the same thing. Maybe keeping the brother's safe wouldn't be so difficult over the next few days.

"Tell me about this place my brother trapped you," Cas said, after a while.

"Castiel," Raeth chided. She thought that it was a place Sam and Dean might not really want to remember.

"It's okay," Sam said, giving her a reassuring smile.

"It wasn't all bad. The chick in the bikini was hot," Dean remembered, a bemused look on his face, nodding happily.

"Is that all you remember?" Sam asked.

"Nope," Dean said, happily inhaling another forkful of stew, "It's all I'm choosing to remember, because, mostly that whole thing sucked."

Sam snorted in agreement.

"Did Gabriel tell you why he did it?" Cas asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look across the table. Neither wanted to say anything, so there was a brief nonverbal conversation over which one of them was going to answer. Sam lost.

"He said it was because he just wants it to be over," Sam replied, "But he also said that he loves his family, that he doesn't want one brother to kill the other."

Castiel made a derisive sound in his throat. Tears flooded Raeth's eyes but didn't fall.

"He said it can't be stopped," Dean stated, not looking up from his plate.

"Only because he doesn't want it to be," Castiel reminded them. "He has no motivation to help us."

"He said it always had to be us. That everyone has always known it would end with us," Sam said, quietly.

"I'm certain that everyone did _not_ know, since I didn't," Raeth told him.

Sam looked up and saw the tears clinging to her lashes. He set down his fork and reached over to wipe them away. She smiled sadly, but gratefully.

"What did you say to him?" Cas asked.

"We told him that it's not going to happen," Dean said, firmly. "If his brother need to kill each other, they're going to need to find vessels willing to do that, because these two aren't."

Sam was shaking his head emphatically. "Nope. Never. I don't care who might be possessing me, if he tried to kill Dean I'd stop it."

That got Dean's attention. "What are you saying, Sammy?"

Sam's head came up a little and a muscle in his jaw tightened. "I'm saying that we've seen people take back their vessels before – Jesse's mom, Bobby. Angel or demon, I don't care which, I'm not going to watch my body being used to kill you. Are you going to allow Michael to kill Lucifer while he's walking around possessing me?"

It was obvious that Dean had never considered that. He chewed thoughtfully.

"Now that you mention it, no," Dean said.

"Do you two have any idea what you're saying? This isn't demons we're talking about! It's two of the most power archangels in all of Creation," Raeth looked aghast at the turn in the conversation.

* _Raeth_?*

Castiel's voice on thread straight to her mind startled her. She glanced at him in confusion.

* _ **What?**_ _*_

_*Do you know what just might be stronger than Michael and Lucifer?*_

_*_ _**What?*** _

_*The power of the love these two brothers have for each other, forged over countless lifetimes. If anyone can defeat them-*_

_***Are you suggesting that we allow Sam and Dean to acquiesce to them in the hopes they can overpower them somehow?*** _

_*We can't 'allow' Sam and Dean to do anything. We can't interfere with their free will-*_

_***Gabriel did! He kept them imprisoned in a made up place. He was forcing them to do what he wanted!*** _

_***** _ _Gabriel has been rogue for a long time.*_

Raeth and Castiel were staring at each in silence across the table.

"Something you two want to share with the whole class?" Dean asked.

"No," Castiel said, quickly, not wanting to influence their thoughts on the subject. "We'll support whatever you decide to do."

Raeth nodded. "I am standing by your side, Sam, no matter what."

Sam reached over to place his hand on hers and squeezed it in gratitude.

"I know you are," he said.

"Yeah," Dean said, gruffly, "But I don't think you need to worry about us saying yes to the angels, not about this. Right, Sam?"

Sam met Dean's eyes and nodded once. "Sure," he said, "Whatever you say."

The angels didn't miss the way Sam had looked away from Dean so quickly. They shared their own look of concern and alarm; but remained silent.

"Which one of the pies do you want?" Sam asked.

"Pumpkin?" Dean answered, but he looked at Sam questioningly.

"Sure, why not?"

"Because I remember a time when you wouldn't eat anything orange," Dean reminded him.

"Wasn't I like, two?" Sam laughed, spearing a carrot dripping in gravy and holding it up. "I think I'm over it."

Dean grinned, chewed and swallowed. "There's real whipped cream too," he said, "because nothing pumpkin should –"

As he finished the sentence Sam chimed in so that they were speaking in unison.

"Ever be served without whipped cream."

They were both grinning as they finished speaking.

Dean finished off the rest of the stew on his plate and pushed what was left of the bowl towards Sam.

"Eat that," he said, "the fridge isn't big enough to keep it."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, but he was looking at it longingly.

"Yep," Dean stood up, patting his full stomach appreciatively. "I want to save room for an extra huge slice of that pie."

Sam shook his head indulgently, fondness for his brother written in his expression. Watching them Raeth thought that Castiel might be right once again, because he often was.

Maybe the love these two brothers had for each other really was stronger than Michael and Lucifer.

Raeth just prayed they never had to test the theory.

(0)

 


	89. A Reason to Stay in Bed

Two days later the storm had blown over, the boys were rested and fed and starting to calm down about Gabriel and their time in TV Land; a little bit at least. The third day dawned with the sun bright and low on the horizon, warning of how close winter was. But it turned out to be a gorgeous autumn day – warm with deep blue skies, and a gentle wind tossing thick white clouds around, crisp and clear.

Sam had risen from his dreamy sleep instantly, but hadn’t moved. Like all hunters, he was aware of his surroundings – the amount of light in the room, the temperature (chilly, given that his nose and forehead were kind of cold), the weight of the quilts and blankets on top of him, Raeth lying beside him, pressed up tight though faced away. He stretched a little and then snuggled down further under the covers, rolling onto his side, reaching for Raeth the way a child reached for a beloved teddy, cuddling her close and sighing happily as he buried his cold face in the warmth of her hair.

Mornings without demons or monsters, without an immediate threat that had to be dealt with; mornings that followed a night of great sex and uninterrupted peaceful dreams – those were the best kind of mornings.

Waking up in bed beside his angel was far superior to simply being watched over by her from a distance.

He could feel the minute changes in Raeth’s body that meant she was also coming back to a more conscious state. She’d either been meditating – communing with the dimensions and the celestial intent from which she had come – or listening to ‘angel radio’ again.

Slowly she turned in his arms to rest her head on his chest.

“Are you going to run in the woods again this morning?” She asked.

Sam’s answer was a sleepy, affirmative sound as he shifted his arms to hold her close. He’d run every morning, before breakfast on the misty wooded trails behind the house. He found it peaceful to be alone with his own thoughts.

“May I join you this time?” Raeth asked.

Sam thought about it for a moment. He opened his eyes and gazed across the room at the log cabin walls, without seeing it at all. She had not asked to run with him in a long time.

“I doubt there is a big bad out in the woods waiting to jump on me,” he said, “and if there is, I can probably deal with it myself.”

“It’s not about guarding you,” she answered, “It’s about missing you when you’re away from me.”

Sam started to protest that his morning runs didn’t last that long but he had an inkling of what she meant. So he smiled and said, “Sure. Come along. I’d enjoy the company, even if you don’t really need the exercise.”

Raeth leveraged up and looked down into his eyes.

“If it’s exercise you want,” she said, her voice suddenly husky, “why don’t we stay right here for a bit and get in a work out of different kind.”

The silky curtain of her hair fell down around them, saturated with morning light, shining like a promise. Sam reached up and carded his fingers in it on one side, pushing it away so that her face was no longer hidden in its shadow.

“What did you have in mind?” He asked, though his eyes were bright with the knowledge of exactly what she intended.

“Come here,” Raeth said, softly, leaning down, rubbing noses with him and then bringing her lips close to his. “I’ll show you.”

(0)

Dean had gotten up with the dawn, made coffee and toast and then put on a jacket to go out and work on the car. It wasn’t unusual for Sam to sleep later in the morning, especially now that Sam had a reason to stay in bed longer. So Dean didn’t blame him.

But it was getting hard to ignore what was happening between Sam and Raeth, even with all the crap going on. For Dean, the strategy of ‘not talking about it’ had always worked pretty well. Ignore and deny, repress is necessary; it was a strategy he had employed over and over again throughout the years and usually he saw no reason to mess with success.

In a way Dean was grateful for Raeth’s presence in Sam’s life. Considering what had happened, it would have been just like Sam to turn broody and guilt-stricken, huddled up and quiet and just fucking impossible to reach even if Dean broke down and dove straight into a chick-flick moment with him. Sam was a big guy, with a bigger heart and for all that – for all his size and strength and muscle, for all Sam’s razor sharp intelligence and powers of observation – Sam was as fragile as glass. He broke easily.

Raeth had prevented that. Raeth gave Sam hope and a kind of forgiveness that he couldn’t get from anyone else, not even Dean. Sam knew that Dean forgave him – for everything, always. It was understood and while it was important for their relationship, it also rendered Dean’s forgiveness meaningless. Sam, however, took all things heaven and angelic very seriously. His faith might have been shaken by the revelation of the angels and how they really were. But Raeth helped it remain intact, made it stronger in fact. So her forgiveness and her steadfast devotion had helped Sam get beyond his guilt over freeing Lucifer. She had helped Sam to stand back up on his feet and fight.

But Sam was falling in love with Raethaniel. All the signs were there; and when Sam fell in love he fell hard and fast. It put his fragile heart in desperate danger of being shattered.

Raeth wasn’t human. She was never going to be human as far as Dean could tell; and Dean didn’t know how that was going to work out for his brother. He was also pretty sure that Sam would shut him down if he tried to bring up the subject.

So Dean went outside to work on the car, because that was something he could do; and it would help him think. Sam wasn’t the only thing on his mind. He was still pissed as hell about Gabriel and what that cowardly son-of-a-bitch had put them through starting 3 years before.

The Impala was running fine, fully winterized, new shocks, new brakes. There wasn’t much he needed to do to the engine. But the inside could always use a good cleaning.

He was taking his anger out on a scuff mark on the vinyl covering the passenger side door – wondering how it got there because Sammy _knew_ better than to use his foot to push the door open – when Castiel appeared on the seat beside him.

“Hello, Dean,” he said, gruffly.

Dean recovered quickly, since having Castiel appear practically on top of him was becoming a normal occurrence.

“Where were you this morning? Checking in on the family?

Castiel blinked and processed that. “If you mean my brothers and sisters in heaven, then yes. From a distance at least. I’m not exactly certain of my reception.”

Dean shot him a look of disbelief and amazement, because Castiel still just made Dean shake his head sometimes. He went back to rubbing the life out of the scuff mark.

“Well let me know if they decide to lynch your dick-brother. I’d like to be in on that,” he growled.

“No all angels are bad, Dean,” Castiel said, wearily.

“I can count the angels I trust on one hand and not use all my fingers,” Dean informed him,” and right now as far as I’m concerned the latest one is the biggest dick a great big bag full of them.”

“I know that Gabriel shouldn’t have trapped you in that fantasy-“

Dean twisted around to face Castiel. “You mean the TV Land thing? Yeah, that was bad enough. But your brother has been fucking around with us for 3 years.”

“Three years?” Cas repeated.

“Yes, ever since he thought it would be a laugh riot to make sure I died about a hundred times, right in front of Sam.”

“What?” Cas asked, clearly mystified about why anyone would want to do such a thing, much less over and over. “Did he say why?”

“What does it matter? He put Sammy through Hell. The last time he decided to kill me it lasted for months. Do you want to know how long it took Sam to let me out of his sight after that? How long it was before he lost that haunted look in his eyes?” Dean broke off because his voice was getting loud and because remembering how traumatized and jumpy Sam had been for months after that was just too painful. Sam hadn’t been able to watch Dean eat, or go take a shower, or even walk down the street without looking pale and scared.

Since it had always been Dean watching over Sam too closely, the whole thing had been an eye opening experience and opened a new chapter in the brother’s relationship. But Dean had never been sure that new chapter had been worth the price they’d paid.

Quietly Cas said, “I imagine it took a very long time. Sam loves you very much.”

Dean sighed heavily and scratched his fingers roughly through his hair, choosing not reply to the obvious.

“Just as I love my brothers,” Cas went on, “even when I find their behavior baffling….. Those angels said that you trust, is it wrong for me to hope that I am one of them?”

Dan had once believed that no one could do the puppy eyes thing like Sam could. He’d been wrong. Castiel could do it and be worthy of an Oscar for his performance.

“Yeah,” Dean grumbled, admitting it grudgingly. “You’re one of them; and Raeth and maybe Lamechiel. But that’s it. The rest of you seem to have forgotten about the whole ‘free will’ thing.”

“I know it seems that way,” Cas began.

“No, Cas, it doesn’t seem that way, it _is_ that way,” Dean cut him off. “We’ve been fucked six ways from Sunday by angels trying to get us to do what they want us to do. Zechariah erased our memories of who we even were. Gabriel _killed_ me. He turned Sam into the car! He fucked with my brother _and_ my car! Your friggin’ brothers started the apocalypse and now they’re pissed off that me and Sam won’t play along. So what’s next? What stupid fantasy are they going to put us in next? Or is this it? Are we really at a safe house or is this all another elaborate game?”

“No you’re really here,” Castiel said.

Dean snorted and shook his head. He poured more Armor-all onto the rag and started wiping the dust off the dashboard with more vigor than was absolutely necessary.

“Well I guess that’s something,” he said sarcastically.

“Dean, I know you’re upset,” Cas said. He paused when Dean shot another murderous look his way. Then he seemed to remember that he was a powerful being made of celestial intent and he forged on. ”I’ll do the best I can to protect you from any further interference from my family. I’ve already armed you against them as well as I can, but here.”

Something large and shiny floated in the air in front of Dean. He reached up and grabbed it, too tightly, letting go when he realized it was a feather. A very large feather, softer than anything he had ever touched, iridescent and sparkling.

“Is this?” Dean asked.

“An angel feather. It’s a powerful talisman. I can show you ways to use it.”

Dean pulled it through his fingers, watching it snap back into shape with slow and careful grace.

“You think this makes everything all better?” Dean asked.

Castiel had lost the look of apologetic hope that he had started with. Now he just looked as if he was one with Dean’s temper tantrum, even if Dean was right about a lot of it.

“No, I don’t,” he said, more gruffly than usual. “But I’m not the one who did any of this to you, or to your brother.”

It was true and Dean knew it. He was taking out his frustration on the wrong guy.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said and then went back to making the dashboard shine.

“Would you like some help with that?” Castiel asked.

“If you want, but use a rag and the cleaner. No waving your hand around,” Dean said. “You can do the back.”

Castiel retrieved a rag from the pile on the floor and poured Armor-all onto it. As he opened the rear driver’s side door he grumbled. “Waving is much more efficient.”

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	90. The Betrayal of Angels

Sam had gotten into the grey sweats he wore for running. By the time he was done and had turned around, Raeth was wearing a similar outfit of grey sweatpants and matching shirt. She had been doing things like that ever since he’d gotten her the t-shirt in Henderson, Nevada and explained about not drawing attention. Sam had no idea where her changes of clothing came from. It was true that running in jeans, a sweater and boots would look out of place (no matter that there was zero possibility of being seen in the woods of northern Ohio at this time of the year.) So he appreciated the effort that she put into matching his choice of clothing.

They found Dean and Castiel wiping down the interior of the car, which looked odd but they refrained making a comment on. Dean swept Sam with a measuring look.

“Taking a run?” He asked.

“Yes,” Sam answered with a trace of sarcasm, since it seemed pretty obvious.

“You armed?” Dean continued, because they had learned that no matter how innocuous something was on the outside, the supernatural had a way of finding the Winchesters.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’ve got my guardian angel. Is that good enough?”

Dean stare back at his brother in a way that said _Dad trained us better than that, Sammy._ Sam sighed, reached into his sock and pulled out a silver dagger. Dean smiled in satisfaction. Sam shook his head as he put the dagger back in place.

“Can we go now” He asked in a way that clearly said he was not really asking for permission.

“Be my guest,” Dean said, with a magnanimous gesture towards the trail disappearing into the woods.

Sam cast him one more baleful look and then jogged off at a ground eating pace. Beside him Raeth kept easy pace. She hardly seemed to move at all but stayed right beside him. Within a few feet of the yard, they were swallowed by the woods.

Running was not just exercise for Sam and Raeth had come to realize that. It was about the challenge, the need to push himself a little farther and a little faster each time. When Sam ran the only opponent he needed to beat was himself.

He had not been raised to compete with his brother. He had been raised to always work as a team. Hunting was a partnership with his brother. They didn’t hunt to beat each other. Hunting meant being _with_ each other. It was one reason that the brothers never ran together. Dean ran because he considered his body another weapon in their crusade and he kept it honed the way he kept all their weapons clean and sharp.

Sam ran because his world was often divided into black and white and his side had been chosen for him before he was born. He had only just recently realized that his only choice was deciding how to play that part – something the archangel Gabriel had just reminded him with painful clarity. He had always done what he’d wanted and tried to do it with honor and integrity.

He wasn’t sure now how to fight off Lucifer, or how to surrender to Lucifer, with any kind of honor or integrity.

Running was also about peace for Sam, a setting aside of his thoughts. It was a pure endeavor and it was what he was seeking on that crisp autumn morning. It was why Sam preferred being alone when he ran. So he was surprised to find that he enjoyed the cool, silent presence of his Guardian as she raced along effortlessly next to him.

He might have found it annoying when she finally spoke after a mile or so over the uneven ground. But it was his Guardian and she was remarkably easy to be with.

“Is something pursuing us?” Raeth asked quietly.

Sam glanced down at her. She was so strong and so capable and she kept up with him so easily that he often forgot how much shorter her vessel was than he was.

“Not that I know of, why?” Sam asked.

“You’re running as if your life depends on speed,” she observed.

Sam considered that, without altering his stride. He rarely pushed himself to a hard-breathing pace. For him it was about endurance not anything aerobic. But today he was flying down the trail as he was trying to outrun a Hell Hound. The peace and serenity that came with running was elusive this time. It might be why he was finding Raeth’s presence so soothing.

“Maybe if I run fast enough, none of your family members can catch me and put me in another version of Hell on Earth,” Sam answered. He said it gently but he knew that it sounded harsh. Raeth loved her brothers. He had seen it in her eyes, heard it in her voice when she spoke of them. She loved Castiel and Lamechiel. She even spoke of Lucifer with wistful sadness and a kind of wounded adoration, but not with hate or fear. Michael she revered. Gabriel had broken her heart but she still loved him.

So Sam knew it was going to drive a wedge between them if he lashed out at the angels the way he wanted to.

“You have every right to be angry,” she replied.

Sam ground his teeth, feet pounding into the trail. He wanted Raeth on his side. But at the moment he had a greater need to vent. It would help if she would try to justify their actions somehow.

“Gabriel _shot_ Dean,” he said. “In the back, which I suppose is nothing considering that he once murdered Dean _a hundred times right in front of me_. Of course he was a trickster back then, so maybe it doesn’t count as angelic nonsense. He just seems to really like killing my brother. In fact the last time he killed Dean it went on for 6 months – 6 months of living without my brother and trying to track down that son of a bitch and at the end of that he thought it would just be a ton of fun to make me think I had killed Bobby. Your brother reversed those 6 months but he never took away my memories of them; and you should believe that I remember every blessed minute of being without Dean. If I get a chance next time, knowing what he is, you might regret teaching me how to use an angel blade so effectively.”

The feelings he had repressed for years – smothered under the relief of having at least gotten his brother back in one piece- came flooding out. It had lain inside him for too long, becoming a stagnant pool of hate. He’d been haunted by it for too long and now it was rising like a specter.

“Anger is a double blade, Sam,” she said, gently, “and an archangel is not so easy to kill.”

“And you wouldn’t help me,” Sam guessed.

“Would you ask me to?” She seemed startled, “You of all people would ask me to help you kill my brother?”

The silence that fell between them was brittle. Sam’s jaw was set in a taut line and she could read the quiet, defeated anger in every tense line of his face. His expression said that he was remembering being hurt, and that he was clinging to his right to feel that hurt; that he believed no one could possibly understand it.

“I have a very large family. I’ve known pain and betrayal and I’ve lost brothers and sisters; and right now it seems to me that Gabriel has lost his mind. Sam, please understand that in Heaven the treachery of demons is _nothing_ compared to the betrayal of an angel. But please don’t ask me to help you kill him,” Raeth begged.

Sam didn’t answer right away. But he began to slow down, breaking his stride and finally coming to a halt. He stared at his feet for a moment and then went to put both hands on a tree and stretched, straight-armed, head hanging.

Raeth outpaced him a few feet, stopped and turned around to come back to him. She hovered near him and then put her hand on his back.

“Sam?”

“You don’t seem very worried about whether or not I’d be killed in the process,” he said, staring at the ground.

“I wouldn’t allow him to harm you. I’m your Guardian; it gives me certain power even over the archangels. It’s why Lucifer can’t do anything to me for blocking your dreams,” she paused and began rubbing the knotted muscles of Sam’s back.

“And Gabriel can’t kill me or Dean without invoking the wrath of Michael and Lucifer,” Sam said.

He let go of the tree and stood straight up. He was barely out of breath in spite of the pace he had been setting.

“You’re too smart to do anything when you’re angry,” Raeth said, “Anger will kill you more certainly than your enemy’s blade.”

“It can be quite the incentive, though,” Sam said, bitterly.

Raeth didn’t say anything to that. They both knew that the fiercest anger burned in defense of a love one. Gabriel had pissed off the Winchesters. Raeth wondered if her brother knew just how grave a mistake that was.

Sam turned then and gathered Raeth into a swift and sudden embrace. He would have crushed her ribs had she been mortal. After a moment he bent over, wrapped his arms a little tighter and put his face in her hair. He could feel the anger melting away as if it had never existed.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“For?”

“Listening, understanding. I know how caught in the middle you feel.”

Raethaniel didn’t reply at all. She just continued to cling to him like the steadfast, loyal miracle she had always been. Sam realized that he wanted her, needed her, in his life now, the way he needed food and air.

“Sam,” she said, lifting her face away from his chest so she could speak, “No matter what I am now, or was in the past; no matter what my family does, I am yours. I am devoted to you above all else. I would give my life to protect you. Let me deal with my brothers. Please.”

“That seems like too great a burden for me to ask you to bear,” Sam answered.

Raeth tilted her head, offering him a kiss. “I bear it willingly,” she whispered, just before his mouth closed over hers.

(0)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	91. A Tricky Emotion

By the end of the third day, Dean was beginning to feel restless. It was a pretty common reaction for him. He couldn’t take downtime for very long. It was one thing if they were stuck in a place with Wi-Fi, or some form of communication that allowed Sam to search out cases. If the dry spell went on, Dean was perfectly capable of doing research too. Usually he could at least go burn off energy at a local bar. But this far out in the middle of nothing, there was little they could do but relax and watch the limited selection of VHS movies that were on the shelf next to the ancient TV. Their laptops were useless. Their phones worked in certain spots, held at the right arm’s length.

The group had made their way through the Diehard movies and started on Star Wars. Raeth had been interested, watching intently, asking questions that Sam happily answered in detail. Castiel seemed less enthusiastic and had been flitting in and out for three days – there one moment and gone the next, which no real explanations of where he had been.  
Cas was gone at the moment and Dean wasn’t really interested in seeing Luke blow up the Death Star again. Sam and Raeth were cuddled up on the couch in a tangle of familiar arms and legs. Sam was twisting a long lock of her hair around his fingers and trying to explain the Force, which Raeth thought must be like the power that angels receive from Heaven, which launched the two of them into a metaphysical discussion that threatened to give Dean a major headache.

Dean got up, grabbed a beer from the fridge, his coat from the back of a chair and then he went out onto the porch to seek some peace and quiet. He leaned on the railing with one foot braced on the bottom and stared out into the moonlit yard. The deer were back, but they had gotten used to the people inhabiting the house – helped along no doubt by the fact that two of the ‘people’ were angels, especially since Raeth liked to gather acorns to feed them and had them eating out of her hand most evenings before their movie marathons started.  
He was rolling the beer bottle between his palms and brooding when Castiel appeared beside him.  
To his credit Dean didn’t even flinch. He’d learned to detect the minute change in the air – a brief and almost imperceptible hush as if time hung suspended; the soft snap of wings that happened just before Castiel would show up.

“Hey, Cas,” he said.

“Hello Dean,” Cas returned. After a moment he added, “You look like you have a problem.”

Without a trace of sarcasm, Dean said, “Besides the apocalypse?”

Castiel wrestled with that for a few seconds, trying to decide what Dean wanted. He was so often baffled by humans and Dean in particular. The human’s tendency to hide behind sarcasm defeated the angel most of the time.

“Yes, besides that,” he said, finally. “This is not your ‘worried about the apocalypse’ expression. This is your ‘worried about Sam’ expression.”

Dean turned his head very slowly to look at Cas. “My ‘worried about Sam’ expression. Sounds good. But when I am not worried about Sam?

“True. But this seems more specific. Has he done something?”

Dan sighed, fidgeted, drank from his beer. “It’s more like what he’s in the process of doing.”

“Which is what?” Castiel prompted when Dean stopped talking.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that my brother is falling in love with your sister,” Dean said, bluntly.

Castiel actually blinked. It was the last thing he’d expected to hear.

“Don’t we have larger issues than the state of your brother’s heart?” He asked.

“Never going to be a larger issue for me than Sam,” Dean answered. He didn’t elaborate but he was remembering all the times when he had put anything before Sam. It had not gone well.  
Castiel was silent for some time. There were crinkles around his eyes and a furrow in his brow that meant he was thinking.

“So how is this a problem?” He asked, finally, apparently giving up.

“How much trouble does that make for him, upstairs?”

“If by ‘upstairs’ you mean Heaven, then none of which I am aware. Humans and angels have been falling in love ever since there have been humans and angels. There are angels even now who have abandoned Heaven to live with one human or another, for many reasons.  
”  
“Is she going to be in trouble if she loves him?”

“Raeth? No. She has been ordered to love him in a way. The only trouble that could arise would be if they chose to procreate-“

“Oh, whoa!” Dean said, holding up both hands - one still clutching his beer- and backing away a step. “I’m nowhere near them procreating. I’m just wanting to know if they’re going to be struck by heavenly lightning or something.”

“No, that was something Thor would do, or occasionally Zeus. But Heaven isn’t about striking people with lightning,” Castiel stopped following that line of reasoning when Dean’s glare became lethal. He gathered his thoughts and focused on what Dean was trying to ask him. He cleared his throat gruffly. “Humans can do what they like. Sam is free to fall in love with whomever he chooses. As for Raethaniel…. She fell in love once before, though I do not think she remembers it. It was one of the reasons she was put on the Gate at the Third Heaven. It is also the reason she was assigned to Sam Winchester in the first place. There will be no punishment from Heaven for that; and no angel can interfere with the free will that was given to humanity.”

Dean snorted and turned away, lifting the beer once more and taking a long swallow.

“It seems to me that all the angels do is try to interfere with our free will,” he said.

“Zechariah and Gabriel have tried to bend your actions to suit their needs. They are both powerful enough to force you. For that matter, so are Michael and Lucifer. If the angels truly wanted to deny your free will, we could. But it’s not possible, not even for a rebel like Lucifer,” Castiel paused and looked contemplative for a short time. Finally, sounding astonished and amused, he added, “You are dealing with some of the most powerful beings in the universe and you can defeat them with a simple ‘no’.”

The angel watched the swift changes on Dean’s expressive face as he had a short internal conversation. Whatever conclusion he came to, Dean chose not to share it. 

But it was clear that he had come to some kind of decision. Castiel hoped that decision was to trust Sam.

“Love can be a tricky emotion, Dean,” Cas said finally. “But it’s very rarely wrong.  
”  
Dean grunted and leaned on the porch rail again, drinking from the bottle again until it was gone.

“I hope you’re right,” he said. But he sounded doubtful all the same.  
(0)


	92. The Ants and the Sugar

The philosophical discussion brought on by the movie had become something of a debate between the human and the angel, spirited but respectful. Sam was sharply reminded of his college days and the classes that had encouraged him to speak up and share his opinion, the kinds of discussions that had taught him persuasion as well as the ability to listen closely to what the other side was saying.

"But the Force is just an energy field," Sam was explaining, animate, excited by the exchange. "It's… inert, impersonal. God, at least as I understand the concept, has personality and agency. The Force has no moral imperative. Being good or evil doesn't affect the Force itself, only the person wielding it. The Force guides and is used by a person in the way that person is naturally inclined to go."

Raeth nodded in agreement, and then replied, "My father has imposed guidelines. That is true; but a moral imperative? I don't think that came from him. I think that arose in the natural course of your evolution, to ensure your survival as a species. Morals and law existed even in cultures that had never heard of Heaven or God. But the Force _is_ like my father in that the entire galaxy of this make believe world seems to have been created by it, even if accidentally."

"So you're saying that God made all of this deliberately?" Sam asked. "All of this chaos? All of the seemingly inconsistent things?"

"Not all of it and not by design," Raeth said, "but he set it in motion."

At that point, Dean got up and walked over to the kitchen. He grabbed his coat off the hook by the door and beer from the fridge and walked out onto the porch. The door clicked shut behind him. Sam watched him go without changing his position – slouched mostly on his back, with his head and shoulders pillowed on the back of the old couch, Raeth curled up beside him. It was not the world's most comfortable couch. But he had grown up in the cramped backseat of a '67 Chevy and had learned to

Raeth leaned over to watch Dean go and then looked worriedly up at Sam.

"Did we say something wrong?" She asked.

"Nah," Sam said, "He just isn't into deep discussions about philosophical things. If you push him, he'll say something so amazing you'll wonder why you didn't think of it yourself; or it will make you spend a lot of time rethinking your entire position. But mostly he just likes the movie and he'll tell you that's all it is – just a movie."

Raeth considered that and then settled back down in the comfortable knot of their intertwined limbs. Sam liked to cuddle, she'd discovered. She laid her arm across his chest, feeling the reassuring thud of his steady heartbeat. They watched Luke make his final run in the trench and the blazing CGI explosion of the Death Star. They were silent during the triumphant medal ceremony. Sam finished the last of the popcorn in the bowl and the water he'd been drinking.

When the closing credits started with a sudden fanfare of music and the flash of George Lucas' name on the small screen, Raeth observed gently, "He's not wrong. But it is a very good movie."

Sam huffed out a small sound of mirth as he untangled from her and stood up. Raeth sat up, folded her legs crisscross on the couch and watched as he went to the kitchen to rinse out the popcorn bowl and poured a glass of water from the sink. The best part of the ramshackle cabin was the water – sparkling clean from a private well.

He returned to the couch, muted the sound of the closing theme and sat down facing her, one long leg under him, the glass of water held casually between his large hands.

"Can we talk about something I've wanted to talk about almost since we met?" He asked, seriously.

"I think that depends what that is," Raeth answered, hesitantly.

"Fair enough," Sam said. He drank some water and then put the glass on the old coffee table in front of them. "Tell me about your father."

"My father?" Raeth blinked, surprised. "The one you call God you mean?"

"Yes," Sam said, nodding and looking almost eager, leaning forward, eyes locked on Raeth.

She seemed to exhale slowly.

"You understand that I never actually was in his presence?"

"Yes. But you lived in the Third Heaven and I've heard you say that is the Seat of God. You must know something about him, something more than what we're told."

Whether he was doing it on purpose or not, the pleading, hopeful look on Sam's face was always Raeth's undoing. She doubted anyone could resist telling Sam anything he wanted to know when he had that expression on his face.

"My father is very curious, very creative, easily distracted-"

Sam barked out a short laugh. "You make him sound very young."

"He is," Raeth said, surprisingly. "For the kind of Being that he is, he isn't very old at all."

"Like quadrillions of years is young?" Sam asked, still looking skeptical.

"Try to understand how amazing he is, how powerful, and then consider some of the things he's done. So yes, very young."

Sam thought about that and Raeth waited, knowing his thoughts by his changing expressions. She could almost anticipate his next question before he asked it.

"So," he said, slowly, "How are humans supposed to relate to something like that? How do angels?"

Raeth leaned forward and touched his hand gently before wrapping her fingers around it and squeezing.

"Can I tell you the story of the ants and the sugar?" She asked instead.

Sam's eyes narrowed, but humor glinted in them. "Depends. Are humans the ants in this story?"

Raeth laughed. "Yes."

"Then what are angels?"

Cryptically, she replied, "They aren't in the story, but if they were they'd be ants with slightly more power and slightly less free will who are slightly closer to the Source."

Sam laughed again, squeezed her hand and said, "Okay. Tell me the story."

"There is a kitchen," Raeth began, in a singsong story-telling voice, "and in this kitchen there are groups of ants who are all searching for Sugar. Some have found a jar of jam and they are so happy, because there is writing on it and it says Sugar _right there_ and they are convinced that they and they alone have found the one true Sugar. There is another group of ants and they have found a bottle of syrup and they are also ecstatic because it also says Sugar and surely this is the one true Sugar that all ants must seek. There is another group that has found a bowl of Sugar and it doesn't have any words at all but it is pure and sweet and they _know_ this is Sugar but they can't convince the other ants, because all of the groups are convinced that they have the truth. In the meantime, incomprehensible to them, are all the jars of jam and all the bowls and bags of sugar and all the syrup all over the world, and all the different types and flavors. But what they really can't understand are the fields and endless fields of sugar cane that are the Source of it all; and how it is all possible because of the Source and how they are all right in their own way. Do you understand?"

Sam regarded her for a moment and then looked away.

"I think you're trying to tell me that God isn't something humans can easily understand," he said.

"Not yet. But with each passing generation, you get closer to it."

"So there's hope for us?" Sam smiled.

Raeth surprised him by leaning forward and kissing him on the lips, very lightly, like the brush of an eyelash.

"There has always been hope for you," she said, tenderly, "especially you."

"So why did he do this? Why cage Lucifer but set up ways that he could be set free?" Sam asked.

"Lucifer needed to be disciplined. He caused unparalleled chaos. But," Raeth paused and smiled sadly. "Why did he create a way to one day set him free - because Lucifer is his son. I don't think our father ever intended anyone else to unlock the cage. I think he wanted to do that himself."

"So he isn't all-knowing?"

"No, of course not. How boring would that be?"

Sam grunted and then nodded. "Yeah. I guess... But is that why he gave the command to get Dean out of Hell? He saw that Dean was about to break the first seal?"

Raeth never got a chance to answer. As Sam was asking the question, the front door opened and Dean walked in with Castiel.

"Yes," Castiel said in his gruff voice. "We were ordered to immediately march into Hell, which was unprecedented. But I now have a deeper understanding of why there was such a delay in choosing a garrison to complete the mission; and then even more delay when mine own was chosen."

He sounded as if an old wound had been made to bleed fresh. Raeth looked equally pained.

Dean took his jacket off and tossed it over the back of a kitchen chair. He deliberately avoided Sam's eyes, knowing that his brother had turned around and was watching him carefully.

Sam knew that Dean didn't like to talk about that time. (Sam had always considered that a good thing, a sign that Dean had survived with his sanity intact. Only a crazy man would want to talk about the decades he'd spent in Hell.) He asked a question to keep the attention carefully focused on Castiel.

"What happened, Cas?"

The angel sighed. "You know what happened. The archangel who led my garrison was deeply committed to setting Lucifer free."

 _The archangel who had led his garrison_ had been Uriel. It seemed that Castiel was still unable to even utter his name.

"But the _best_ ones," Sam said, sounding deeply moved, his voice quiet, "were still committed to doing God's will and because of them, because of _you,_ I got my brother back."

"Amen to that," Dean added.

Castiel looked away. Dean clapped a hand on Cas's shoulder and moved past him to get another beer out of the fridge. Sam stood up. Raeth reached for his hand and let herself be pulled up along with him.

"I'm calling it a night," he said.

They cleaned up and said goodnight. Then Sam and Raeth went off to the bedroom, closing the door against the world.

(0)

 

The philosophical discussion brought on by the movie had become something of a debate between the human and the angel, spirited but respectful. Sam was sharply reminded of his college days and the classes that had encouraged him to speak up and share his opinion, the kinds of discussions that had taught him persuasion as well as the ability to listen closely to what the other side was saying.

"But the Force is just an energy field," Sam was explaining, animate, excited by the exchange. "It's… inert, impersonal. God, at least as I understand the concept, has personality and agency. The Force has no moral imperative. Being good or evil doesn't affect the Force itself, only the person wielding it. The Force guides and is used by a person in the way that person is naturally inclined to go."

Raeth nodded in agreement, and then replied, "My father has imposed guidelines. That is true; but a moral imperative? I don't think that came from him. I think that arose in the natural course of your evolution, to ensure your survival as a species. Morals and law existed even in cultures that had never heard of Heaven or God. But the Force _is_ like my father in that the entire galaxy of this make believe world seems to have been created by it, even if accidentally."

"So you're saying that God made all of this deliberately?" Sam asked. "All of this chaos? All of the seemingly inconsistent things?"

"Not all of it and not by design," Raeth said, "but he set it in motion."

At that point, Dean got up and walked over to the kitchen. He grabbed his coat off the hook by the door and beer from the fridge and walked out onto the porch. The door clicked shut behind him. Sam watched him go without changing his position – slouched mostly on his back, with his head and shoulders pillowed on the back of the old couch, Raeth curled up beside him. It was not the world's most comfortable couch. But he had grown up in the cramped backseat of a '67 Chevy and had learned to

Raeth leaned over to watch Dean go and then looked worriedly up at Sam.

"Did we say something wrong?" She asked.

"Nah," Sam said, "He just isn't into deep discussions about philosophical things. If you push him, he'll say something so amazing you'll wonder why you didn't think of it yourself; or it will make you spend a lot of time rethinking your entire position. But mostly he just likes the movie and he'll tell you that's all it is – just a movie."

Raeth considered that and then settled back down in the comfortable knot of their intertwined limbs. Sam liked to cuddle, she'd discovered. She laid her arm across his chest, feeling the reassuring thud of his steady heartbeat. They watched Luke make his final run in the trench and the blazing CGI explosion of the Death Star. They were silent during the triumphant medal ceremony. Sam finished the last of the popcorn in the bowl and the water he'd been drinking.

When the closing credits started with a sudden fanfare of music and the flash of George Lucas' name on the small screen, Raeth observed gently, "He's not wrong. But it is a very good movie."

Sam huffed out a small sound of mirth as he untangled from her and stood up. Raeth sat up, folded her legs crisscross on the couch and watched as he went to the kitchen to rinse out the popcorn bowl and poured a glass of water from the sink. The best part of the ramshackle cabin was the water – sparkling clean from a private well.

He returned to the couch, muted the sound of the closing theme and sat down facing her, one long leg under him, the glass of water held casually between his large hands.

"Can we talk about something I've wanted to talk about almost since we met?" He asked, seriously.

"I think that depends what that is," Raeth answered, hesitantly.

"Fair enough," Sam said. He drank some water and then put the glass on the old coffee table in front of them. "Tell me about your father."

"My father?" Raeth blinked, surprised. "The one you call God you mean?"

"Yes," Sam said, nodding and looking almost eager, leaning forward, eyes locked on Raeth.

She seemed to exhale slowly.

"You understand that I never actually was in his presence?"

"Yes. But you lived in the Third Heaven and I've heard you say that is the Seat of God. You must know something about him, something more than what we're told."

Whether he was doing it on purpose or not, the pleading, hopeful look on Sam's face was always Raeth's undoing. She doubted anyone could resist telling Sam anything he wanted to know when he had that expression on his face.

"My father is very curious, very creative, easily distracted-"

Sam barked out a short laugh. "You make him sound very young."

"He is," Raeth said, surprisingly. "For the kind of Being that he is, he isn't very old at all."

"Like quadrillions of years is young?" Sam asked, still looking skeptical.

"Try to understand how amazing he is, how powerful, and then consider some of the things he's done. So yes, very young."

Sam thought about that and Raeth waited, knowing his thoughts by his changing expressions. She could almost anticipate his next question before he asked it.

"So," he said, slowly, "How are humans supposed to relate to something like that? How do angels?"

Raeth leaned forward and touched his hand gently before wrapping her fingers around it and squeezing.

"Can I tell you the story of the ants and the sugar?" She asked instead.

Sam's eyes narrowed, but humor glinted in them. "Depends. Are humans the ants in this story?"

Raeth laughed. "Yes."

"Then what are angels?"

Cryptically, she replied, "They aren't in the story, but if they were they'd be ants with slightly more power and slightly less free will who are slightly closer to the Source."

Sam laughed again, squeezed her hand and said, "Okay. Tell me the story."

"There is a kitchen," Raeth began, in a singsong story-telling voice, "and in this kitchen there are groups of ants who are all searching for Sugar. Some have found a jar of jam and they are so happy, because there is writing on it and it says Sugar _right there_ and they are convinced that they and they alone have found the one true Sugar. There is another group of ants and they have found a bottle of syrup and they are also ecstatic because it also says Sugar and surely this is the one true Sugar that all ants must seek. There is another group that has found a bowl of Sugar and it doesn't have any words at all but it is pure and sweet and they _know_ this is Sugar but they can't convince the other ants, because all of the groups are convinced that they have the truth. In the meantime, incomprehensible to them, are all the jars of jam and all the bowls and bags of sugar and all the syrup all over the world, and all the different types and flavors. But what they really can't understand are the fields and endless fields of sugar cane that are the Source of it all; and how it is all possible because of the Source and how they are all right in their own way. Do you understand?"

Sam regarded her for a moment and then looked away.

"I think you're trying to tell me that God isn't something humans can easily comprehend much less relate to," he said.

"Not yet. But with each passing generation, you get closer to it."

"So there's hope for us?" Sam smiled.

Raeth surprised him by leaning forward and kissing him on the lips, very lightly, like the brush of an eyelash.

"There has always been hope for you," she said, tenderly, "especially you."

"So why did he do this? Why cage Lucifer but set up ways that he could be set free?" Sam asked.

"Lucifer needed to be disciplined. He caused unparalleled chaos. But," Raeth paused and smiled sadly. "Why did he create a way to one day set him free - because Lucifer is his son. I don't think our father ever intended anyone else to unlock the cage. I think he wanted to do that himself."

"So he isn't all-knowing?"

"No, of course not. How boring would that be?"

Sam grunted and then nodded. "Yeah. I guess... But is that why he gave the command to get Dean out of Hell? He saw that Dean was about to break the first seal?"

Raeth never got a chance to answer. As Sam was asking the question, the front door opened and Dean walked in with Castiel.

"Yes," Castiel said in his gruff voice. "We were ordered to immediately march into Hell, which was unprecedented. But I now have a deeper understanding of why there was such a delay in choosing a garrison to complete the mission; and then even more delay when mine own was chosen."

He sounded as if an old wound had been made to bleed fresh. Raeth looked equally pained.

Dean took his jacket off and tossed it over the back of a kitchen chair. He deliberately avoided Sam's eyes, knowing that his brother had turned around and was watching him carefully.

Sam knew that Dean didn't like to talk about that time. (Sam had always considered that a good thing, a sign that Dean had survived with his sanity intact. Only a crazy man would want to talk about the decades he'd spent in Hell.) He asked a question to keep the attention carefully focused on Castiel.

"What happened, Cas?"

The angel sighed. "You know what happened. The archangel who led my garrison was deeply committed to setting Lucifer free."

_The archangel who had led his garrison_ had been Uriel. It seemed that Castiel was still unable to even utter his name.

"But the _best_ ones," Sam said, sounding deeply moved, his voice quiet, "were still committed to doing God's will and because of them, because of _you,_ I got my brother back."

"Amen to that," Dean added.

Castiel looked away. Dean clapped a hand on Cas's shoulder and moved past him to get another beer out of the fridge. Sam stood up. Raeth reached for his hand and let herself be pulled up along with him.

"I'm calling it a night," he said.

They cleaned up and said goodnight. Then Sam and Raeth went off to the bedroom, closing the door against the world.

(0)

 


	93. Life and Death and.... Life?

Sam had believed that he was tired enough to fall right to sleep as soon as he slipped under the faded sheets and blankets. But then Raeth had slipped in beside him and somehow her clothes had vanished, he had discovered just a bit of energy. At least he had stayed awake long enough for a round of slow, sleepy lovemaking and the chance to ask Raeth about something else that had been bothering him. He was still on his back, since they had finished with her above him – outlined and lovely in the moonlight, the soft, sweet voice of an angel in his ear….. _Sam…..yes, there…..Sam….._

She was sprawled against his side, her arm and a substantial amount of her hair draped over his chest. Raeth wasn't tired. She wasn't even winded. She never was. But she was satisfied. Sam always made sure of that; and now she seemed to enjoy cuddling in the aftermath; or she was just doing it because Sam turned into a big, snuggly hug monster in the aftermath.

True to form, Sam rolled over onto his side and gathered her into the warm fold of his long arms and legs until she almost disappeared. His pulse was thundering and his skin was warm and damp.

"Can you sleep now?" She asked. Her voice was muffled somewhere under his bicep and against his chest.

"Maybe," he answered.

She laughed a little. Dean wasn't the only one getting restless. It just wasn't as obvious with Sam because he didn't pace around the room, stalk out the door periodically or chop firewood as if it had done him some kind of personal affront.

"More questions about my father?" She guessed.

"No, I'm still processing what you already told me. I, umm, I've been wanting to ask you for a favor."

"I'll do anything that is in my power to do. I already told you that," Raeth assured him.

Sam sounded wistful and anxious when he finally asked the question. "Can you find someone in Heaven? Someone who has passed?"

Raeth hesitated and then spoke in a measure way. "It is acceptable for the angels of the Seventh Heaven, the Seraphs and the archangels to visit anyone's private paradise. They can't interact or interfere with someone, but they can visit. I am from the Third Heaven. If you want me to find someone, I will have to petition several angels in a rising tier of authority and call in several favors to even get that far. I will do that for you, of course. But choose wisely. I will only be able to check on one for you."

The hesitation was long this time, measured by the beats of his slowly calming pulse and the way his breathing became more even. When he first tried to speak, he had no voice and had to clear his throat.

"Juh- _(cough)_ , Jessica," he whispered hoarsely. "I want you to find Jessica and I feel really horrible asking you to find my girlfriend after we just…. After we, you know-"

"You were deeply in love with someone once, Sam," Raeth interrupted, "It would be pointless to ignore that or pretend it didn't happen. Besides, I'm not your girlfriend. I am your angel. What is it you need to know about Jessica?"

Sam sighed. "I need to know that she's safe, that she's in a place safe from this latest mess that I helped make. I dragged her, innocent and unaware, into a life she didn't know existed. I put her in danger because I just pigheadedly refused to accept the truth of everything I'd been taught for 20 years. I thought I could just walk away and none of it would follow me… I was wrong and I didn't protect her and I got her killed."

Raeth had started stroking Sam's arm about halfway through his tortured answered, offering him silent comfort.

"Is there some reason for you to think that she isn't safe in Heaven?" She asked, gently.

"You said something once that led me to believe that reincarnation is possible, that we can choose to come back."

"Yes," she admitted. "It's all part of the free will that was given to man. Not even heaven can hold you if you don't want to stay. But if Jessie chose to return, she's no longer the girl you knew. She's a new entity."

"But the same soul. Just on a different path?"

"Yes, that's the point of choosing to return, to learn and grow or to help someone else on their path."

"So for me that would still be Jessica and it would mean that she's in danger again from the apocalypse – which I started-"

"Not alone!"

"I don't need you to defend me right now. I need to know that Jessica is safe and happy, far away from all this. Can you find out for me?"

Raeth pushed out of his arms slightly and tipped her head up so that she could kiss the edge of his jaw.

"I will try. Even if I can't see her personally, I know several angels who might find out for me."

"That you trust?" Sam asked, anxiously.

"Yes, that I trust. It might take me a few days though, as you measure time."

It seemed to soothe him. At least he settled back down and eased them both into a more comfortable huddle of entwined limbs. It was enough to tell Raeth that he didn't want her to start searching right away.

"If we aren't here when you get back, call me on the phone. I'll tell you where we are."

His voice was drowsy now, slurred.

"Of course," she assured him, "good night, Sam."

"Night," he murmured, just before his breathing settled permanently into the even rhythm of sleep.

(0)

He was rudely woken several hours later by Dean banging a fist on the bedroom door and shouting,

"Sam! Get up! We gotta go! Now!"

Sam struggled up out of the covers, immediately cognizant that Raeth was gone and the door was threatening to break into splinters under the power of Dean's pounding. He grabbed jeans off the floor and pulled them up, shouting back,

"I'm up! What's wrong?"

He yanked the door open before Dean could break it. His brother held up his cell phone so that Sam could read it.

It was from Chuck and it said: Pineview Hotel, 5760 Lakeview Avenue Vermillion, Ohio. Life and Death situation. Hurry.

Sam sighed. "What the hell has he done this time?"

"I don't know, but we better go. It's not that far from here."

"I'll get my stuff," Sam said.

Their downtime, it seemed, was officially over.

(0)

 


	94. Freaky What

**A couple of chapters that will be tags/missing scenes/fixing plot holes of Swap Meat.**

**(0)**

When Raethaniel realized that she could not just sense Sam's soul but that she knew _exactly_ where he was, she had to fight a momentary feeling of utter panic. Getting into Heaven, especially in search of the private heaven of a particular soul, had been difficult enough. Getting back out would be problematic, considering that some of her former compatriots in the Third Heaven were looking for her. Not even the protection of Michael would be enough. Those who were trying to stop the Apocalypse would be perfectly content to lock her up again. They were already fighting against Michael.

She had flown under the radar so far, locating Jessica Moore, ascertaining her current level of safety and happiness and then making her way back towards the Gate of the Seventh Heaven. But now she could see the Gate and she could see that it was being guarded by Zophiel – God's spy – and Suriel – By God's Command. She was not likely to get passed either of them now. She'd had no dealings with them, ever, and no reason to believe they would simply let her leave now/

She had gotten in with the help of Sagnessagiel, who owed her a favor, but it had still taken negotiation and bartering. He had brought her in through a weakness in the entrance to the Fourth Hall, that Sagnessagiel knew about but had never rectified. It was possible she could get out that way, though she was uncertain would she could wrangle Sagnessagiel with this time. Raethaniel turned to make her way across the expanse from the endless realm of private paradises to the Fourth Hall when another angel appeared in front of her. Naaririel – the angel prince of the Seventh Heaven – in the form of his vessel, an elderly man with a grizzled beard and kind brown eyes.

Raeth froze, but not before bringing her angel blade into position. She had no idea if Naaririel was friend or foe.

"Brother," she said, bowing her head slightly but maintaining eye contact, watching for him to strike.

"Sister," he returned. "There is someone who wishes to see you. Come with me."

Raethaniel had two choices. She could fight and attract attention; or she could go quietly and wait for a chance to escape. All this time, she was struggling against the awareness of Sam and knowing exactly where he was. If _she_ knew where then Lucifer could find him as well. Time was of the essence.

"I'll go with you," she said, quietly.

Wings spread she followed Naaririel to the First Hall, the residence of the arch angels, a place she had never thought she would see in all the long millennia of her life. The Hall was empty when they arrived, except for a very familiar angel, also in his earthly vessel.

"Gabriel," she said in a shocked whisper and then dropped her eyes, lowering her head in respect.

"Hello, little sister," he answered with a cocky smile. He waved a hand at Naaririel. "You can go."

Naaririel vanished with a snap of wings, leaving her alone with the prodigal archangel. Protocol demanded that she let him speak first. Shock left her unable to utter another sound.

Gabriel spread his arms wide. "Surprise," he said.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I'm back home on probation, thanks to Big Brother Numero Uno."

"Michael," she guessed.

"Yep."

"What do you want with me?"

"To send you back to Earth. It's what you want isn't it? It's what Michael wants. Sam's in a mess, someone is screwing with his free will. So back you go."

"That easily?"

"Yep," he gave her another cocky grin, tipped his head sideways and snapped his fingers.

Raeth didn't have time to process what he had just said. One moment she was in heaven being confronted by a wayward archangel and the next she was standing on a suburban street in front of a startled dark-haired teenaged boy.

Except that it wasn't the soul of a teenaged boy. It was Sam. Her eyebrows lifted and for a brief moment all she could do was stare. Shocked and horrified, Raeth blurted out,

"Sam?" It was less a question and more of a demand.

The boy's eyes flew open wide with shock and something like hope. "Raeth! You can see me? You know it's me?"

"Of course I can see you. I am bound to your soul. I can find you anywhere, unless you are in a vessel that's been hidden from me and this vessel _clearly_ is not your original one, so it isn't hidden from me at the moment!" As she spoke Raeth's voice gradually rose until she was virtually shouting; not _at_ Sam exactly. But he could sense that her frustration matched his own and he let it out.

"You think I don't know that?" He asked, fists balled, coming up on his toes as if he wanted to hit something. "There's some weird Freaky Friday witchcraft shit going on here that I don't understand."

His odd reference briefly derailed Raeth's train of thought. "Freaky what?"

"Fri- Never mind. Can you fix this? Can you find Dean? Whoever has my body is with him. Dean's in trouble."

"Dean's in trouble," she repeated, flatly, incredulous.

"Yes!"

"Sam!" Raeth said, with strained patience. "If I can now find you, then Lucifer can find you as well. If Lucifer can find you and assess this situation, he may be able to find this child and convince him to surrender the vessel!"

The face that was not Sam's stared back at her with stunned disbelief.

"I didn't think of that," he said in a shocked whisper.

"Well what _were_ you thinking?" She demanded.

"That Dean was out there hunting with someone who had no idea how to have his back!"

Raeth gaped at him closed her eyes and appeared to be counting for a moment. "I'm trying very hard not to smack you in the head," she said, at last. "All that's going on right now with the world ending and you're worried about your brother?"

"I'm always worried about my brother!" Sam answered defensively. Then his brain abruptly switched gears again. "Can he do that? Can Lucifer find me now? My body still has the Enochian sigils carved into it. It's still hidden. But if he follows my soul around long enough…. He must know I won't stop until I fix this mess."

"He's an archangel. If I can see you now, _he_ can do much more. Hopefully he's distracted. But we have to move fast."

"Can you find Dean?"

"No I can't find Dean. He's still protected by the sigils!" Raeth shook her head for a moment as if to clear it and then added, "You need to calm down."

"Calm down? There is a kid out there who could get my brother killed!"

"There is a kid out there who could get himself and _your_ vessel killed. That's why you need to calm down. You get angry when you aren't calm - _hot_ angry and then you stop being able to process the larger picture."

"Hot angry?" Sam repeated.

"Yes," she said, but she didn't elaborate. "Where was the last place you saw Dean?"

"The Lucky Star Motel, but I called there. He's gone and Gary is with him. He should be going to the cemetery looking for the grave of Maggie Briggs."

"All right. Where were you going now?"

"To school. I found some witchcraft stuff in Gary's room but his sister says there is a book. It's not in the house so I think he must have it at school."

"Then do that," Raeth said, "I'm going to try to track the Impala."

"What? You can do that?"

She hesitated, her expression thoughtful. "The car," she began slowly, hands moving as she tried to explain, "gives off an…. energy. It's a residue of you and Dean because you've spent so much time in it. It's an energy signature I should be able to pick up and follow."

Sam frowned, pondering the implications of that. "Can Lucifer do that? Find us using the car?"

"I don't think so. He'd need to know where it was most recently and he isn't bound to you as I am." She touched his arm. "It will be all right, Sam. We'll set this right."

"Just go find my brother and help him not get killed."

Raeth smiled at him. "He's Dean Winchester, walking through a cemetery. I suspect he's pretty safe at the moment."

It was odd to see Sam's expressions playing on the unfamiliar face of the teenaged boy. Raeth felt her own anger starting to rise. This boy – this _Gary_ \- had complicated Sam's life, put him in danger and ignored Sam's free well. When she finally found him, he was due for some heavenly justice and Raeth was going to be more than happy to give it to him.

(0)

 


	95. Does Your Brother Fear Nothing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fixing an episode that seemed to end with too many loose ends untied.

Sam strained against the ropes uselessly, remembering too late that he wasn't in his own body – the body he had honed and conditioned for situations like this. It didn't help that he had been unconscious when they had tied him up, so he hadn't been able to flex to keep the ropes looser. He struggled valiantly for one more moment and then stopped with a grunt of frustration. Then he did what he should have done a long time ago. He shouted out loud for Raeth

He hadn't wanted to – for the simple reason that he had sent her to protect Dean, to get to Dean first. Yes, she had told him not to call her, in case Lucifer heard him too. But he was more concerned for Dean. But maybe if he had just called her as soon as he regained consciousness…. Maybe Trevor would still be alive and a demon wouldn't be racing to get to his own now-vulnerable vessel.

" _Raeth!"_ He was pretty certain he didn't need to yell. She could probably hear him even if he whispered her name. " _Raethaniel!"_

She appeared in front of him before he had completed all the long syllables of her name. She was startled for only a moment before waving a hand and causing the ropes to fall on the floor.

"Sam! I told you not to call me like that! I'm not the only angel who can hear it."

Sam leapt to his feet, over-compensated for his much smaller body and almost fell. He stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance.

Raeth glanced at the body of the dead teen on the floor and then angrily demanded, "What happened?"

"No time," Sam panted. "Demon. Heading for Dean. Cloverleaf Motel! Can you track her?"

Raeth grabbed his hand and they evaporated out of the basement. They reappeared in the parking lot and Sam groaned in frustration.

"What are we doing out here? We need to get to Dean!"

Just as upset, Raeth snapped back, "I can't _find_ Dean. I am focusing on the demon. Now be _silent,_ Sam!"

The boy beside her ground his teeth together, but less than a heartbeat later there was no need for silence. A stream of thick black smoke shot out of the vent to one of the motel rooms. Sam started to run forward an then literally felt himself being swept off his feet, as if by a giant bird of prey had grabbed him. In the blink of an eye he was standing in a basic shabby motel kitchenette with his brother and his own vessel.

Dean, of course, managed to blink at their intrusion and then roll his eyes in aggravation. His entire countenance said that it just figured they'd show up when everything was over. Sam's vessel, however, looked terrified and backed up a few steps. Gary recognized his own body and knew who was in it. But he didn't know not Raeth – and the angel was wearing an expression of heavenly wrath.

Even as Sam watched he saw her transform into something not quite human anymore. Her eyes changed, slanted, went from shades of brown to multifaceted gold ringed with blue. Her pupils shifted from circles to elongated slits, dark and fathomless. Her form began to glow with soft blue iridescent light.

"Wh-what are you?" Gary stammered from out of Sam's lips.

Raeth took a step forward, toward Gary. The light in the room was suddenly dimmed as the shadow of her wings grew against the walls and crawled slowly onto the ceiling. "I am an angel of the Lord," she said, her voice so low it seemed like distant thunder, "and I should smite you where you stand."

Sam, even in a vessel not his own, reacted the way he always did when he was suddenly in the room with something very dangerous. Every sense came alert, the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up. Across the room he saw the same thing happening to Dean.

But it was Raeth, and Sam had become bold in her presence, even when she was dangerous. He moved to her side and put his hand on her arm.

"Oh hey," he said, softly, "You want to hold the smiting until he's not wearing, well, _me_?"

Raeth stopped moving but didn't lower her wings or look at him.

"You're an angel?" Gary gasped. "Like a real angel?"

Dean snorted in derision. "You just met a demon who was going to summon Lucifer. You want to doubt the existence of angels now?"

"I am a Guardian angel," she said, still laser-focused on Gary. " _Sam's_ guardian angel."

Gary swallowed and got noticeably paler. But he now appeared too frightened to move.

"Yeah," Dean growled with bitter sarcasm, "and you're doing a _great_ job."

Raeth swung around to face Dean for a moment. Sam tightened his grip on her arm and hissed, " _Dean!"_ as if he believed his brother was insane. She swung back towards Sam and in her motions Sam saw the deliberate, sinuous movements of the dragon he knew from his dreams.

"Does your brother fear nothing?" She asked, flatly.

It was Sam's expressions that flitted across the face of the teenaged boy. He looked self-conscious and full of sadness and regret all in the space of a few fleeting milliseconds.

"Losing me," he said, softly.

Raeth seemed to exhale. She understood what he was trying to say – that it was the same for him, that losing Dean was the only thing he feared. It was the reason she would never hurt Dean, and they all knew it.

"Okay, look, enough," Dean said, "Can you switch Sam back or not?"

"I can," Raeth said, as the shadow of her wings faded. "But it would be better to use a spell to reverse the energy entirely, so that no trace of it is left still in play."

Dean looked at Gary in his brother's vessel. "Can you do that?"

"Yes," he said, shakily.

"Then do it," Sam demanded.

Gary nodded. "I'll get the stuff."

"Yeah, you will," Dean said.

Gary shuffled the huge body that belonged to Sam Winchester, shoulders hunched, over to his backpack and started pulling things out.

"Raeth," Sam said, "There's a kid dead back in that basement where you found me. The demon killed him. Can you do anything about that?"

She frowned at him. "Anything?"

"Can you bring him back? He hasn't been dead that long. We're the only ones who know and none of us are going to talk about it."

Raeth hesitated. Her form slowly mutated back into the lovely woman he knew best; blue glow faded out, warm shades of brown returned to her eyes. It emboldened him to continue. Sam spoke anxiously in a voice that was now more breath than sound, "They were in over their heads. But one of them winding up dead is more than they bargained for; and this kid's parents are going to come home and find there son on their basement floor covered in blood. Can you bring him back?"

"It's not as easy as that, Sam," Raeth said. "I have to pull his soul back to his body, erase his memories of heaven."

"But you can do it? You said you have a certain number of miracles you can do and I haven't seen any lately." He paused and looked at her pleadingly, "Look, Raeth, the kid was an ass. The words 'arrogant stupid prick' don't even begin to describe it-"

"Geez, Sam, the kid's dead-" Dean cut in.

"You weren't here!" Sam shot back, rolling his eyes. "You didn't see what happened. You didn't hear him. He thought he was going to get ten million dollars for handing Nora over to a demon and turning us over to Lucifer!"

That brought Dean up short, He looked down, licked his suddenly dry lips and nodded. "Yeah okay, that was a dick move."

Sam shook his head in exasperation and went on talking to Raeth, "But the thing is, maybe he deserved it. But his parents don't. His family doesn't. It was stupid, but I don't think this needs to be permanent. I don't think it should be. I know Heaven is about justice but isn't it also about mercy?"

Dean wasn't sure how Sam managed to pull off the desperate puppy expression and pleading eyes even when he was inhabiting the body of a gawky teenager, but he did. Unless Raeth had no heart whatsoever she was going to have a hard time resisting it. Dean held his breath waiting, because Raethaniel and Castiel were the only angels he trusted not to be dicks and he didn't want her to let him down.

Sighing, Raeth relented. She closed her eyes for a moment and then said, "His soul is still wandering in the light. I can retrieve him from there. I'll be right back."

Her wings fluttered loudly and Raeth vanished. Gary – the form of Sam – paused in putting out things on the table, startled again. Then he took a shaky breath and went back to what he was doing.

"I need to show you the spell," he told Sam, sounding tired and resigned. He knew a lot of spells and they had made him feel powerful. But these two men had an angel on their side and he knew without a doubt that he had no chance against her. "You have to be the one who recites it to reverse this."

"Okay," Sam answered, grim and determined.

On the floor, Nora stirred and moaned. Dean helped her sit up and then got her up on the bed. He pulled the blanket off the other bed and wrapped it around her. She was very pale, shaking and cold, staring into the distance with an expression no teenager should ever have. Dean suspected she was in shock. It would be a miracle if she wasn't, considering the circumstances.

"Hey," he said, and waited until she looked up at him. "Everything is going to be okay. I promise."

"T-trevor," she stammered.

"Yeah, well, we've got that covered. Trust me. Stay put."

She looked at him blankly, uncertain whether to trust him or not. Dean kept eye contact with her, wiling her to believe. He pulled a quick smile and she returned a weak one.

"Atta girl," he said, patting her shoulder.

When he turned around again, Sam and Gary were sitting down at the table facing each other.

"Animae domum redeant. Fas atque nefas instauretur. Potestate et auctoritate, sic fiat," Sam intoned.

He dropped powder into the bowl between them, causing light to blaze up from it. Dean covered his eyes, looking again when the light died down. He watched anxiously as Sam rose and went to a mirror.

"So, we good?" He asked as if he feared the answer.

"Yeah," Sam exhaled. "We're good. Oh, man, it's nice to be back."

Dejectedly, Gary said, "Yeah. Awesome."

Sam and Dean exchanged a communicative look and then Dean cleared his throat.

"So… Gary."

"I know – my bad." Gary shrugged.

Dean swallowed a rush of anger, but just barely.

"My bad"? Kid, "my bad" ain't gonna cut it. See, if you were of voting age... you'd be dead, because we would kill you. So either you straighten up and fly right or we will kill you. Are we clear?

Gary blanched and nodded hastily. "Crystal."

"Good," Dean snapped.

"And if we don't, I know an angel I probably won't be able to stop a second time,  
Sam reminded him.

Impatient with being reminded how many ways he could be killed, Gary said, "Yeah, yeah, I got it."

No one had a chance to say anything else as Raeth reappeared at that moment. Nora gave a frightened little whimper and curled up under the blanket tighter. Gary went over and sat down on the bed, awkwardly patting her arm and whispering something that seemed to soothe her.

Sam crossed the floor to Raeth, devouring the space between them in hungry strides. Raeth watched him – chestnut highlights in his long, disheveled hair, broad shoulders under the beaten brown jacket, the body beneath the rumpled clothing supple and powerful and remorseless in its masculinity - and knew the soul inside that form was Sam.

"Did you get him?" He asked.

"Yes," she answered, reaching out to touch him, _needing_ to touch him in a way that no angel should. "He's in his room at home, pondering his sins and the consequences of his actions. I won't take away their memories of this, Sam. Some lessons need to be learned, even if the lesson is harsh. They are already inclined to dismiss the seriousness of summoning demons. I won't take the risk that they will try it again."

"No, you're right," Sam said, but he was smiling in a soft, delighted way, glad to be back in his own vessel, glad that she had granted what he had asked. A wicked awareness lurked in his eyes, as if he was seeing her all over again for the first time. "You're right. It's fine. Thank you."

She nodded and seemed about to say something else. But Sam put his hands on either side of her face, cradling her jaw gently and brought his mouth down on hers. It was sweet and almost chaste at first. But then it grew into something deeper and more intense as mouths opened and jaws worked. Raeth rose up on tiptoe to reach him better. Sam bent over farther and one hand dropped to the middle of her back, drawing her in closer.

Dean watched for a moment until it started to feel like he was watching the start of a sappy porno. Then he said,

"You two wanna get room there?"

Sam broke away, still smiling down at Raeth. "We're in a room. You guys want to leave?"

"Okay, that's it. Let's get the kids back home and get the hell out of here before more demons show up," Dean said, impatiently.

Sam ran a hand down the side of Raeth's head, followed the long golden flow of hair down her arm.

"Dean is right," she said. "Lucifer may have been alerted to all of this. You need to put this town behind you as quickly as possible."

"Okay," Sam said, "Then let's get out of here."

(0)

 

 


	96. Close My Eyes Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tags and missing scenes for the Song Remains the Same. Opening dialogue is not mine.

"It's not that easy," Castiel informed them. He walked a few steps away, brow furrowed, thinking.

"Why not?" Sam demanded.

"Time travel was difficult even with the powers of heaven at my disposal," Castiel explained.

"Which got cut off," Sam finished for him.

Catching on, Dean said, "So, what, you're like a DeLorean without enough plutonium?"

Castiel stared at him for a moment. "I don't understand that reference. But I'm telling you, taking this trip, with passengers no less—" He broke off and then finished "—it'll weaken me."

Shoulders squared, Dean walked up to the angel and stood toe to toe with him.

"They're our Mom and Dad. If we can save them, and not just from Anna... I mean if we can set things right, we have to try."

Dean was talking in the tone of voice Cas has come to know well – the one that told him that no matter how many times Dean was told no, he would do it anyway. Castiel shook his head slowly, wondering how to make them understand.

Sam in the meantime had taken out his phone and made a call. He didn't wait long and it to be answered.

"Raeth? I need you….. We're at the Black Horse Inn on route 58, room 6, car's parked out front….."

He hadn't even hung up when Raeth appeared beside him.

"What's wrong?"

As quickly as possible, tagging each other in the tale, Castiel, Sam and Dean told Raethaniel about Anna's nocturnal visit to Dean and her disappearance into the past. When they were done she reached for Sam's hand and held on.

"Anna," she sighed, heavily. "Oh, _Anna…"_ Sorrow lurked in the depths of her brown eyes for a split second before it was masked, as if she had drawn a curtain over emotions she didn't want to acknowledge. Then to Castiel she said, "You're going to follow her back in time aren't you?"

"Can you take us?" Sam asked, quickly, "Castiel says that it will weaken him, since he's cut off from Heaven."

"No!" Castiel interrupted. He leveled a piercing look at Raethaniel, daring her to defy him. "As an angel of the Seventh Heaven I am still more capable of transporting two passengers through time than Raethaniel, even cut off."

She returned that look for a brief second and then lowered her eyes, nodding reluctantly.

"He's right," she said, looking up again at Sam. "Angels are multidimensional by nature, but time travel requires certain restrictions while doing it. Castiel is not only an angel of the Seventh Heaven but a Seraph. If anyone is going to take you it should be him. But I can accompany you."

"No," Castiel said again. When Raeth looked as if she was going to argue, he went on quickly, "You can go farther back and wait."

"What?"

"If we don't manage to protect the timeline the way it is –"

"Or set things right," Dean interjected, sounding fierce.

Castiel glanced at him in irritation but didn't correct him. "We'll need someone who remembers the way things are now. If we alter something and cause Sam and Dean to never be born, or change the course of their lives somehow-"

"We need someone who can come forward again knowing how things should be, so we can set them right again," Raeth supplied. She was frowning, eyes straight ahead but unfocused on anything in the room.

"Yes," Castiel said.

Raeth didn't say anything at all for a while. Sam and Dean exchanged a long look, knowing the seriousness of what they were about to do. In Dean's eyes, Sam saw the determination to take this opportunity and return their lives to what they should have been – to save their mother and prevent their father from going down a long dark road to revenge while dragging them along with it. It was a chance at a normal life and they were unlikely to ever get such a chance again.

There was also the possibility that the only way to end all of this was to force their parents apart and make it so they would never be born. Castiel has just admitted they might do that accidentally. So it could also be done deliberately.

All of this passed between them in silence. But when the 'conversation' was over, Sam nodded once in agreement. If they got that chance they'd take it. Sam would just have to find a way to convince Raethaniel not to act if she discovered they didn't exist.

Sam was by now fairly certain of his ability to get Raeth to do what he wanted.

"All right," Raeth said, finally. "I should be able to return to 1977 without too much trouble. How far forward should I come after that? All the way back here?"

"Go to November 3, 1983," Sam said, softly. "If we're all still in the house in Lawrence, Kansas, then something was changed. If not-" He broke off and shrugged, drew in a shaky breath, "If not then everything is the same and we'll go forward from there."

Raeth had watched Sam all the while he had been looking at Dean. The light in the room had been cast on him. His profile had been as pure as a warrior angel's.

"This endeavor involves a very complicated set of variables," Raeth observed, thoughtfully, "and more than its fair share of danger."

"Yeah," Sam admitted. He ran the fingers of both hands through his hair, pushing it back and smoothing it down, pressing his palms against his skull as if it helped him think.

Raeth watched him do it with tender longing. His neck was long and graceful, vulnerable even when hidden under his own large hands. Strands of dark brown hair now caressed the intimate curves of his neck and ear, touched the place where his neck sloped into his broad shoulders. She suppressed the urge to go up and brush the curls away, to rub away the tension she saw in those muscles – though she felt her fingers burn with desire to do so. With effort she turned to Castiel.

"You should rest before doing this," she told him, genuine concern in her voice.

"I will," he assured her, looking from Sam to Dean he said, "I'll be back."

He evaporated before anyone could say anything else.

"Can we take a walk?" Sam asked Raethaniel.

"Of course we can, though you should rest too."

Sam shrugged. "It's _time_. We're talking about messing around with _time._ I'll be able to rest later. Right now I want to talk to you."

"Conveniently," she responded, "I want to talk to you, too."

(0)

_Soundtrack: Close My Eyes Forever_

_Baby I get so scared inside_  
And I don't really understand  
Is it love that's on my mind  
Or is it fantasy?

_Heaven is in the palm of my hand_  
And it's waiting here for you  
What am I supposed to do  
With a childhood tragedy?

_If I close my eyes forever_  
Will it all remain unchanged?  
If I close my eyes forever  
Will it all remain the same? 

(0)

"I know what you're thinking," Raeth began.

"You do?"

Sam was looking around, trying to find a nice place to take a walk. The motel was on a busy stretch of divided highway – 4 lanes with a concrete barrier between them. It was old school, with complicated traffic lights every other block. It was lined on both sides with old strip malls, newer fast food restaurants, an ancient Chinese diner, gas stations and pizza places. Directly across from the shabby motel was a furniture and appliance store called Discount Bob's.

It was noisy and smelled of car exhaust and greasy food. Raeth was prevented from saying anything else when a semi- truck went by, spraying gravel and causing enough of a wind to almost knock Sam over.

"Do you trust me?" Raeth asked, shouting over the noise.

"Yes, of course," Sam answered.

Raeth felt her heart constrict a little. Sam's trust was hard won. She took his hand and took him away from the noise and distractions.

Sam found himself standing in a place that was mist and silence. He couldn't see the ground but he was standing on something. There was nothing above his head but endless white.

"Where are we?" He asked.

"I thought you trusted me?"

"I do. Just curious. We're not on Earth, are we?"

"No, though we are standing exactly where we were a moment ago. This is a void between the dimensions. Easy to navigate but difficult for anyone to find us."

Sam was still looking around, trying to distinguish anything at all. It didn't look easy to navigate to him.

"Safe?" He repeated.

"Safer than traveling through time," she responded, smiling sweetly.

"Point taken," Sam said, not wanting to argue with a celestial being who was thousands of years old.

Raeth gestured at the floor. "Sit. We might as well be comfortable; unless you'd still rather take a walk?"

Sam hesitated but then slowly lowered his long form to the 'floor'. Once seated, he folded his legs and leaned his elbows on his knees. He was surprised to find that, though the 'floor' had seemed quite firm under his feet, when he sat down, it was like being on a nice mattress. He lifted his eyebrows quizzically and she smiled at him.

"So how do you know what I want to talk to you about?" Sam asked.

Raeth sat down across from him, folded her legs to mirror his position and then leaned over to put her hand on top of his. Her fingers laced with his, palms kissing, wrists touching. Sam could feel the beating of his pulse against hers. In the touch of her hand, Sam felt their hearts collide – hers calm and steady, his racing. His hand shook a little and he saw in her eyes that it startled her. In the odd milky light, Raethaniel was sunlight dipped in honey. Her eyes were cinnamon sugar caught in amber.

Catching his breath, Sam asked again, "How do you know?"

"Because I know you," she said. "You've already thought of something unselfish and sacrificial to do and you're set on doing. So is your brother. You want me to return to 1983, and if I discover you've never been born, you don't want me to do a thing to rectify it. You want to give up your life before you've ever lived it."

Sam gaped at her for a moment. "I started the Apocalypse, Raeth! My brother and I were the first and the last seals to break! Plus all the other complete crap we had happen along the way – our mother dead, living in a car….. What would be so awful about us not being around to do that?"

"Everyone you've saved will die," Raeth said, quietly.

Sam looked away. His hand tremble again and then clenched around hers more tightly. Raeth rubbed her thumb over his soothingly.

"Don't _Christmas Carol_ me," he said.

"What?"

He shook his head. "Never mind. I… I would regret that, if it's true. Maybe some other hunter will save them. I hope so. But, Raeth, I'm 27 years old. How long can I continue to say no to Lucifer? I told him I'd kill myself before I said yes and he said he'd just bring me back. I'm not strong enough to resist him forever. But if I'm not here, then he's still in the cage; and the whole world won't have to burn."

Raeth looked up at him, at the thin set of his mouth, the slight downward turn at the corners; at the color of his eyes that she could use to paint a thousand stormy skies. But it was not Sam's physical beauty that she saw now. It was the fire that burned within him, the bonfire that compelled her gaze.

The pain she was feeling was what it meant to be in love. Sam had not wrenched her heart open. He had coaxed it, gently and tenderly, the way the sun and rain brought a rose into bloom.

"I will do anything you ask me to do," she answered, hopelessly, "I can do nothing else. But I want you to understand that, in making this attempt, you are going up against angelic forces that are stronger than I am, that are stronger than Castiel. There may be nothing we can do to alter the past. But I agree we can't let Anna kill your parents. I will do what you asked; and when I come forward, it you have never been born, I will honor your request to do nothing."

Sam's eyes grew misty and he closed them briefly, his long lashes lying against the smooth cut of his cheeks. When he opened them again, he let go of her hand and opened his arms, inviting her in. Raeth – angel of the Lord and servant of Heaven- leaned forward into the sacred space made by them and, laying her head against his chest, she permitted herself the unimaginable luxury of loving Sam Winchester.

(0)

 


	97. Lawrence Kansas

Since they were dealing with time itself, Raethaniel knew she wouldn't have to linger long in Lawrence, Kansas in 1977. But she would need time to recover. She had underestimated exactly how drained she would be. But exhaustion was temporary. Pain was temporary.

Allowing Sam and Dean to never be born could be permanent. It was the kind of act of free will that Heaven usually would not rescind, under normal circumstances. These circumstances were not normal.

She appeared in 1977 in an empty motel room. It was the same room she had just left Sam and Dean in, only it was somehow not shabby. In 1977, the motel was only a few years old and still clean and fresh. But it didn't help the state of her exhaustion. Her head throbbed. Her eyes were burning. The skin of her vessel felt like a threadbare blanket riddled with knife wounds. The bed called to her like a siren. Her arms and legs were useless and she collapsed onto the floor instantly. She lay there and came to a violent and vivid understanding of why humans needed sleep. Using the last of her fading strength, she placed the room behind a veil, to hide it while she needed it.

Depleted, she closed her eyes and rested, preparing to go forward again; but not to November 3, 1983. She would have to arrive a few days prior to that, if she wanted to have any strength at all for what lay ahead of her; if she wanted to help Sam reconstruct the broken pieces of his past. Raeth lay still and let the weight of earthly silence descend over her.

(0)

Raethaniel had no sense of how much time had passed when she finally regained consciousness. It didn't matter except that she needed to know how much time she would need to recover in 1983. She stood up, extremely pleased that she could do so with ease. All her strength had returned.

She set her sights on October 31st, 1983, spread her wings and sailed off into Time.

(0)

Jumping six years was less taxing than the jump back to 1977 had been. Raeth appeared on the street in front of the Winchester house in Lawrence, Kansas. She landed behind the familiar and beloved Impala and leaned gratefully against the rear fender for a moment. She looked up and down the street and found it deserted. It was a Monday and she assumed everyone was at work or at school.

It was also Halloween – a fact that she had forgotten in all the stress of their current situation. Some of the houses were decorated, though not the Winchester house. She was gazing at the house, trying to assess it, trying to see if there was anything to indicate what was going to happen in a few days' time. But the Winchesters didn't have as much as a fake spider web hanging from the tree out front. There was nothing to show the real evil that was going to visit them.

Raeth was still studying the exterior of the house when the front door opened. She hastily vanished and reappeared farther down the street, walking slowly down the sidewalk as if she had just been out for a stroll. The ruse suited her purpose, since she didn't have the strength to fly away. She barely had the strength for the slow walk.

Her steps faltered even more when a little boy with sandy hair bolted out the open door, full of energy and wearing a costume with a black bat on the front, cape flying out behind him. A tall man with dark hair emerged behind him, shouting,

"Dean!"

Raeth froze, because of course the little boy was Dean Winchester and the man was his father – the infamous John Winchester. The boy stopped and turned around, striking an exaggerated superhero pose.

"Wait for me," John said, "Don't go running off."

A blond woman appeared in the open door. There was a baby balanced on her hip, gnawing on a cracker clenched in his chubby fist.

"Get the good candy," the woman admonished, "not just a couple of bags of tootsie pops."

John turned halfway around and gave his wife an indulgent smile. Together they said, "and don't eat it all on the way home."

Mary Winchester laughed. The baby – clearly six-month old Sam – let out a squeal of delight.

Dean in the meantime had skipped down the walkway to the sidewalk, lost in a superhero fantasy that involved punching, kicking and making noises to go along with it. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw Raeth, reality putting a quick end to his four year-old imagination. He looked up at her with familiar green eyes, bright with curiosity. There was a spray of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," Raeth said. "Who are you?"

Dean put his fists on his hips, thrust out his chest to proudly display the bat insignia and said, "I'm Batman!"

She smiled at him and felt her heart breaking into tiny pieces. She had no idea who 'Batman' was, but it was so important to Dean, so innocent and pure.

"Well I am pleased to meet you," she said.

"My brother is going to be robin," Dean went on. "But we have to push him in a stroller. He can't walk yet. He's just little."

She told him sincerely, "Well give him time. I bet one day he'll be even bigger than you."

"Naw, that's never gonna happen," Dean said. He pointed a thumb at his chest. "I'm the big brother."

She was aware of the door of the house closing and John Winchester approaching. He was a big man but his former military training showed. He moved silently with no wasted effort. He nodded at her politely, though he looked cautious. Raeth could tell when she was being threat-assessed.

But this John Winchester still had no idea what the real threats in the world even were.

"'Afternoon," he said. "Are you looking for something?"

"No," Raeth said, quickly. "I'm just… visiting family and went out for a walk."

John quirked a knowing smile at her. "Family, huh?" He said.

"Yes," she replied. "It's a lovely neighborhood. Quiet."

"Very," John agreed. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder and pointed him at the Impala, propelling him forward. "Enjoy your walk," he told her.

"Thank you," Raeth answered.

John and Dean got into the car and the engine started up with a growl. Raeth resumed walking but she was still watching the house from the corner of her eye. There was movement in the upstairs bedroom window and she could see Mary Winchester pacing the floor, patting her son's back. The Impala disappeared around a corner. Raeth stopped walking and saw Mary bend over to put Sam in his crib. She waited until Mary left the room, closing the door.

Then she unfurled her wings and teleported to the still peaceful and serene nursery.

(0)


	98. Not Without a Fight

The nursery was simple and tasteful, blue walls, minimal furniture. Raeth felt a moment of extreme dizziness wash over her and had to put a hand on the changing table to regain her balance. When she could stand up again, she tiptoed over to the crib, believing that Sam was asleep. But when she leaned down to peer at him over the railing he was wide awake and looking up at her.

"Well, hi," she whispered, softly, masking her voice so that only he could hear. It was possible with babies. They could see and hear angels in a way that other humans couldn't. "Did I wake you?"

The baby gurgled and gave a couple of powerful kicks with his chubby legs, waving his hands in the air. Raeth laughed.

"Well aren't you just the cutest thing I've ever seen?" She crooned, "Which makes sense I guess, since you grow up to be the most handsome…. No, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She touched his petal-soft cheek with a delicate finger. Sam cooed and wiggled in response.

"I love you, Sam Winchester," she went on, almost musing. "I love you in whatever form you may take. So I am going to do everything in my power to stop Azazel. I am your guardian angel. It's in my job description. I am more powerful than most demons, so I should be able to defeat him. The irony of that is….. in this new timeline, I will probably not be asked to be your guardian angel. So you and I will most likely never meet. But I love you and that means wanting you to be happy and safe. I love you enough to give you up."

She stood there for a few more precious moments, staring at Sam. His eyes had started to change, she noticed. The midnight blue of babyhood had lightened to soft blue-grey. The sunburst yellow that surrounded Sam's pupils had begun to appear. At the moment his eyes looked like sunflowers on a summer evening.

"You need to sleep, baby," she said finally. "You have a busy evening. Your family is going to dressed you up as a robin. I am not certain why they want to do that, but your brother is quite happy about it. I'll stay here and watch over you."

She waited until his eyes had closed and his breathing had fallen into the regular rhythm of sleep. Then she faded into the void to rest and regain her strength.

(0)

Two days later:

The morning of November 2nd, 1983 dawned crisp and bright. The trees along the street were already turning, marking the season in shades of red and orange and gold. Raeth had positioned herself so that she could still see the house but remain hidden within a parallel dimension. She wasn't certain exactly when Azazel attacked Sam, but it had always seemed as if it had been early evening. Darkness fell early in Kansas in November and she wanted to be ready.

It was a good plan and she was gaining confidence that it would work when everything went awry. Evening had settled and she was preparing to slip into the other dimension when there came a rush of angel wings and she was suddenly no longer alone. She turned, with the hilt of her angel blade sliding into her palm.

Behind her stood Uriel, in the vessel he had always worn, gazing her with a layered expression – confusion, anger, even a little bit of dismissal, as if she was a surprise but not a deterrent.

"Raethaniel," he rumbled. "What are you doing here?"

She lowered her head, hoping that submission would satisfy the archangel.

"I am Sam Winchester's guardian angel," she replied. "A demon is going to attack him and I am here to stop it."

"Guardian angel? Aren't you supposed to be guarding the Third Gate of Heaven? When were you reassigned as a guardian and why wasn't I told?"

"I won't be assigned for many years," she replied.

It only took him a moment to understand.

"Ah," he said, walking a few steps and then walking back, "another time traveling angel. So you want to stop Azazel?"

"Another?" Raeth repeated, brow furrowing in confusion.

"You're not the first I've met in the last few hours. The Winchesters certainly attract a lot of attention."

"Castiel-"

"No, not Castiel," Uriel waved a dismissive hand. "Castiel had nothing to do with this. Why would he?"

Raethaniel chose to answer. She didn't want to give away too much and she didn't want to risk Castiel. She was also racking her thoughts trying to figure out who the other time traveling angel was.

She came to the realization with a sense of horror.

"Lucifer," she whispered, remembering too late how devoted Uriel had been to Lucifer's cause and understanding now exactly why he had been. Uriel had known that Lucifer would eventually break free of the Cage.

He laughed with delight. "Yes! He's free," Uriel sounded overjoyed at the idea. She saw his wings flare, his eyes blazed with blue light. "He's free, Raethaniel, and he told me exactly how that happens and what part that baby will play in setting him free. Centuries, no millennia, of waiting for his return will be over in a few short decades. You may be here to stop the demon, Raethaniel. But I am here to make certain that he succeeds! So don't' try to stop me, little sister. You know how that will end."

The wave of anger that hit her was staggering in its intensity. Angels and demons had been interfering with Sam Winchester since before he could walk. She was charged to protect him, and this might not be exactly what Michael had meant, but in the name of her Father she would protect him if it cost own life. She embraced the anger. It gave her the courage to act.

Her angel blade came into her hand with a low, lethal sound. Uriel lifted his eyebrows and looked at with pity and skepticism.

"Really?"

"I can't let you hurt Sam. I can't let anything hurt Sam. Those are my orders, from Michael himself."

Uriel responded by dropping into a defensive stance and summoning his angel blade into his hand.

'Kill or be killed, Raethaniel," he said, "There is no other choice in this time or place."

"I won't give up Sam without a fight," she replied.

Raeth lunged towards him, hoping for the element of surprise. No one willingly attacked an archangel. He blocked her low and to the right, anticipating the twist of her wrist that would have allowed her to slice her blade across his chest. Uriel ducked around the cut and slashed at her legs. But she danced up and out of the way. Uriel remained low, pivoted on his left hand and swept his legs through hers as she landed, clicking her ankles together and toppling her.

Uriel then sprang up, blade positioned to press the attack. Raeth never hit the ground. She turned the fall into a graceful somersault. The moment she landed she dove at Uriel again, feinting left and right. It forced Uriel to scramble backwards. He came in on her left but Raeth caught the blow against the lower part of her blade. They slid forward, towards each other until they were shoulder to shoulder, face to face. Raeth couldn't hold the position for long, so she cracked the palm of her hand into his jaw and spun away. She wasn't fast enough. Uriel aimed a quick slash that sliced a long, bloody line across her left arm.

Raeth moved with cold fury. She took a slash at Uriel's midsection that he danced back from, but not before she opened up the front of his shirt and cut a bloody wound across his hip and thigh. With an angry cry, Uriel spun on his left foot and struck her with his right, pitching her away from him and sending her crashing into a tree.

"Enough of this," he growled, stalking towards her like a tiger intent on prey.

Raeth gathered herself quickly. There was blood streaming into her eyes from a new gash on her forehead, where she had hit the tree. She called on the power of Heaven and went back into the battle. Uriel advanced, slashing down at her, opening a fresh wound across her shoulder. Raeth parried him fiercely, shifted her wrists and came up with a slash that should have taken his right hand off.

Beside them, the Winchester house burst into flame. Uriel dropped back. Raeth almost fell to her knees. She put a hand against the tree and held on, watching as small Dean ran out of the front door moments later, carrying a bundle that had to be Sam.

"You're too late," Uriel laughed, breathless and relieved. "It's done."

"No," Raethaniel exhaled.

She started to walk towards the house, ready to fade into that dimension and do whatever she still could.

A hot wind kicked up with a sudden and mighty blast. A stream of fire blazed up between Uriel and Raethaniel. A light that would have frustrated the sun shone so brightly that they both looked away, holding up their arms to shield their eyes. From that light the Phoenix was born.

"Michael," Raeth gasped.

"Go home, Raethaniel," he said, gently.

Something surged against her and swept her away. Time and space became meaningless. When she finally crashed up into reality again, she was back in the motel room. Castiel was lying prone on the bed. Sam and Dean were gaping at her in shock.

"Raeth!" Sam cried, jumping towards her.

Raeth almost collapsed before he got to her. Shaking, descending into shock and exhaustion, she reached for him; desperate, as if she was drowning. Clinging to his strength, and wrapped in his long arms, her voice ragged, she said, "I couldn't…. I tried…."

"Shh! It's okay," Sam answered, "We all did."

Raeth wanted to tell him more, but there was a mist forming around the edges of her vision and she wanted very much to fall into it. Dark spots obscured her vision, bleeding into each other until blackness was all she could see. She could hear Sam calling her but he seemed a great distance away. She felt Sam's arms tighten around her as she sank into layers of grey softness.

(0)


	99. Six and a Half Feet of Pissed Off Cobra

As Raethaniel lost consciousness, Sam caught her and scooped her up in his arms. He laid her carefully on the bed, saying, "Dean!"

Dean had already jumped into the bathroom and returned to toss two towels in Sam's direction. Sam was getting the scissors he always kept in his duffel but he caught the towels as he was turning back around. He looked up at Dean and started to speak, but his brother was already on the same page. He had the keys to the Impala out of his pocket and in his hand and was heading for the door.

"Yeah, first aid kit. I'll get it."

The door closed behind him with a slam. Dean was pissed, about everything no doubt. Sam didn't blame him, but he was too worried about Raeth to be angry at the moment. There was only one thing in the world that could have made the wounds on her vessel – an angel blade.

There was nothing he could do but cut away her slashed and bloodied sweater. It was ruined now anyway (though he had noticed it seemed to come and go at will.) Her wounds were deep and bleeding freely. The one on her arm was glowing with a minute flicker of blue.

Sam took one of the towels – one was wet and one was dry - and wiped away the blood from that wound with the wet one. He put the dry towel over it and kept pressure on it with his left hand while trying to stop the bleeding that ran from her shoulder to her heart. The arm wound was troubling because it had cut all the way to her grace. But the wound that could have gone through her heart was enough to stop the beating of his own.

Dean came back in carrying their first aid box. He didn't comment at all, just went straight to the bed, got the wet towel and started mopping at the gash on her forehead, carefully pulling away strands of blond hair that were stuck in the blood.

"This wasn't an angel blade," he said, when he got it cleaned up.

"The head wound? No, it wasn't," Sam said, grimly. He finished wrapping a bandage around her arm and tied it off with an efficient knot. Moving on to bandage the other cut, he said, "She hit something; probably got thrown into it."

Dean glanced at Sam, considering. His brother was speaking in a low monotone, the icy chilled voice that always meant he was beyond angry. His mouth was a slim line, so tight his lips were nearly white. Dean recognized all the signs – jaw clenched, shoulders tense, eyes hard and nostrils flared, pretty much the equivalent of six and half feet of pissed off cobra.

There was no one who knew Sam better than Dean, no one who could get to the heart of his anger as quickly as Dean. There was also no one more likely to survive poking the cobra.

"It's not your fault, Sammy," he said, quietly, not making eye contact.

He knew he'd hit the mark by the way Sam froze briefly, the way his nostrils flared a little more and his mouth got even tighter. Dean would never quite understand it, but Sammy didn't like being 'known' so well, not by anyone. So now he was madder.

"This is on the angel who attacked her; not on you," Dean forged on. It was okay if Sam hit him. He owed Sam a couple of good punches anyway.

A muscle along Sam's jaw rippled but he still didn't speak. He finished applying the dressing to her shoulder wound and then neatly repacked the first aid kit. He got a gray t-shirt out of his duffel bag.

"Help me put this on her," Sam said, quietly.

Raeth was still wearing her blood soaked bra, and what was left of her sweater fell away as Dean lifted her up. But Sam put the shirt on over her head and gently pulled her arms through the sleeves. When she recovered, her clothing would no doubt recover with her.

He straightened up and looked at her for a long tender moment before he went to the shelf over the clothes rack and got down the extra blanket. It was dingy, thin and not as heavy as he wanted it to be, but he laid it over her anyway.

"Sam-" Dean started again.

"I'm tired of people dying because of that I did," Sam cut him off, "I'm tired of people being hurt because of it. Angels are getting hurt because of it-"

"Stop," Dean snapped, "the angels and the demons set all this up and used us to make it happen; and now our asses are on the line to stop it. This is not our fault."

Sam sighed heavily, sat down on the bed and raked his fingers through his hair, holding it tight to his skull for a moment before looking up again.

"What happened, Dean?" He asked finally, "Back there? I remember Anna stabbing me. I remember the pain. I remember bleeding and falling over. But then I was back here and …and alone. Dean… Did I die?"

Dean frowned, sighed, and then sat down on the end of the bed. He had his back to Sam but turned enough so that he could see his brother.

"Yeah," he answered.

It never got easy – seeing Sam lying somewhere, unconscious, bleeding, dead. The pain was the same each time and the guilt and, if Dean was honest with himself, there was the fear – the fear of living the rest of his own life without back up, of having to go into every fight alone. Sam looked over at Dean and saw that pain and understood it as no one else could ever understand it. He nodded and stopped asking questions about it.

Dean filled in the rest without being prompted – Michael possessing their father, killing Anna, dismissing Uriel.

"So Lucifer wasn't kidding," Sam said, when Dean finished, "If we die, they'll just bring us back. If our parents die, they'll just bring them back."

"Yeah," Dean said again. His voice was rough, dragged over gravel. Then he sat up straighter and squared his shoulders. "So I guess the good news is that we can't change the past. What's done is done; and the bad news is that we can't change the past. So that's not how we're going to fix this. Something else has to be out there and we'll find it."

Sam snorted and shook his head. "We still don't know who attacked Raeth."

"My guess? She tried to stop Azazel and got slammed into a wall of angelic righteousness over it," Dean said, "We'll find out when she comes to. Nothing we can do about it until then."

He clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Help me move Cas off the end of the bed before he slips off."

Sam stood up. "Then what?"

Dean shrugged. "The usual stuff – food, sleep, regroup. Okay?"

Sam didn't answer. There was still a deep frown between his eyebrows. His eyes were looking at the floor but not focusing on it. His concentration was deeply internal.

"Sam!" Dean said, sharply.

Because he knew he had no other choice, because Dean was unshakable in his current mood, Sam looked up, shook his hair out of his eyes and answered, "Yeah, okay."

(0)


	100. The Grinding Weight of Guilt

It might have been minutes, or hours. It might even have been days. Raeth had no way of knowing. She just gradually became aware of a haze and in that haze there were pleasant sensations. Strong fingers were massaging her right temple. There was something gentle brushing against her cheek. She was leaning back against something hard and solid, firm enough to be the foundation of heaven.

She felt her lashes flutter against her cheeks and turned into the warmth behind her with confused pleasure.

"Raeth? Hey. There you are."

She had never known Sam's voice could be that low, that soft and deep, a leopard's purr urging her back to consciousness. She opened her eyes to discover that the 'something' she was leaning against was his chest. One hand was rubbing her forehead. He was brushing her cheek with the knuckles of the other.

He stopped when he saw that she was awake. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Concern still haunted his eyes.

"How do you feel?" Sam asked.

Raeth didn't answer right away. Then she sat up suddenly, turning to look at the other bed. It was empty.

"Castiel?" She breathed out.

"He came to a little bit ago,' Sam said quickly, reassuringly. "He went out with Dean to get food. At least that's what Dean said they were doing. I suspect Dean is actually trying to get drunk and Cas is his designated walker."

"His what?"

"Desig-… Never mind. They're both fine. What about you? What happened? You took quite beating."

Raeth sat up and pulled the bandage off her forehead. Sam winced and moved to stop her, lifting his hand in protest. But the bandage came away clean. There was no trace of injury at all. He didn't quite believe was his eyes were telling him, even after all the time he'd spent with angels. The need to touch her, to reassure himself that she was healing, was suddenly more powerful than thought. With hesitant fingers he brushed her hair back and stroked his thumb over the place where the wound had been. Her skin was so soft he'd have worried about bruising it if she wasn't an angel. She looked up at him sharply, then closed her eyes and trembled a little.

"What?" Sam asked, alarmed, drawing his hand back. "Does it still hurt?"

"No," she said, quickly.

Relieved Sam framed her face, gently, barely touching at all.

"What happened?" He said again as his hands finally fell away. "The cut on your arm was glowing blue. Only an angel blade can do that. Who attacked you?"

Raethaniel sighed deeply. "Uriel," she said. Sam understood the expressions that moved across her lovely face: betraying the memory of the brother she loved and looked up to juxtaposed against the knowledge of what he had done and how he had died.

But it was the last thing he had expected her to say.

"Uriel is dead," he blurted.

"Not in 1983," she replied.

Comprehension dawned but it was still mixed with confusion.

"I sent you to 1983," he said.

"Yes, specifically to November 3rd. But I had to arrive a few days before that in order to recover."

"How many days?" Sam asked with trepidation.

"Three. It was Halloween. You were such a beautiful baby, Sam. Why would your parents dress you up as a bird?"

Sam blinked. "A…. what? A bird? I have no idea." He was forming words but his mind was wrestling with the idea that his lovely guardian angel had once seen him when he was only a few months old. "I think I am going to stop talking and just listen. Tell me what happened, please?"

"I knew that Azazel was going to attack you, so I waited outside the house that night. I'm your guardian. Protecting you is my responsibility. But Uriel was there and he had already been visited by Lucifer. It seems a lot of us have been running around in time trying to change things to our liking. Lucifer charged Uriel to make certain Azazel got to you. I tried to stop him."

"He's an archangel!" Sam reminded her, looking stunned. "What were you thinking?"

Raeth's eyebrows came together as she frowned at him. Fire seemed to crackle in her amber and molasses eyes.

"I was thinking that I am charged with protecting you and I don't have to luxury of evaluating a threat and then stepping back to say, no, I'm sorry, I don't think I can defeat that one!"

Chastised, Sam backed down. "Okay. I just… I just don't want anything to happen to you because of me."

"Nothing will happen to me because of you," Raeth snapped. "If I get hurt it will be because my dear brothers and sisters decided to let the demons start the Apocalypse and then took sides!"

In her voice and in her eyes Sam saw the frustration. He saw how lost she felt and managed, for her sake, to stop seeing everything as it affected him.

"You make me glad I only have one brother and that I can trust him with everything," Sam said, gently.

She gazed back at him for a moment with the fire in her eyes slowly dying. His words and the way he said them offered apology.

"Obviously I didn't manage to stop Azazel, or Uriel. It was beginning to look as if I wouldn't survive the encounter when Michael appeared."

"Michael?" Sam repeated. Then he snorted. "He stepped in and saved me and Dean too. Reset everything as if we had never even tried. I think the only good point in all of this is—"

He broke off abruptly, realizing that he had been just about to celebrate the destruction of Anna, Raethaniel's sister. He looked away from her.

"I'm sorry, Raeth," he said, softly.

"Anna is gone isn't she? Michael destroyed her, beyond hope of restoring," Raeth sounded wistful and resigned.

"Yes," Sam said.

"Then she can't hurt you anymore. That is a good thing. I can protect you from monsters and demons. I'm not sure I can protect you against the angels."

"I'm not sure I want you to," Sam responded. "Angels can kill other angels."

"I know," she replied, "and it's been happening quite frequently of late."

Sam wrapped his hand around one of hers, completely engulfing it.

"Raeth," he said, "What happens when angels die? Where do they go?"

She turned away. "No one knows," she said, staring at the floor without seeing it. "It is probable that we just stop existing. No angel has ever been brought back who could remember, though it is possible their memories were wiped."

"Memories wiped?"

"Yes. You've been in Heaven many times before, Sam. So has Dean and I don't have to remind you that. You just don't remember and that is on purpose."

She turned back to him. "The fact that our Father chose to give humans not only free will but the power to be reborn again and again if they chose is one of the things that caused some angels to resent them so much. It is true that angels are mostly immortal. There is only one instrument in existence that is a danger to us and it is very rare for those to fall into the hands of anyone other than an angel. For the better part of history angels have lived peacefully together. There has been order in Heaven for millennia."

"Until now," Sam said. His shoulders had slouched forward. The hand covering hers was tense. His eyes were soft and unfocused and Raeth knew he had retreated into himself.

At some point in his life Sam had learned to hide until he had worked out whatever was bothering him. He'd learn to be silent while he unraveled knots in his emotional state. Raeth had watched many times when Sam had wrapped up tightly in himself, helpless to know what to do. So she had watched Dean for clues. At first she had been frustrated because Dean never seemed to do anything. Then she had realized that Sam had learned to lock down, to hold to his center and Dean had learned to wait until Sam came back out again.

"I did this, Raeth." His voice was choked as if he couldn't hold this particular horror in any longer. He'd been told time and again that it was his fault, but he didn't believe it. "I brought this upon the world, just by being me and making the choices I did."

"Sam," Raeth said. Her tone was low and gentle because the moment was suddenly heavy with words that should never have to be spoken. She knew that Sam had been struggling to bear the grinding weight of guilt and he was too damned stubborn to give up on the idea. He wouldn't let it go until he found a way to make everything right.

He didn't flinch when she pulled her hand out from under his. He blinked though, in surprise, when her hand settled on the side of his face. She cupped his sandpapery jaw and ran her thumb along the ridge of bone, warm and urgent, asking him to be still. He decided to comply because the hand against his face – small and delicate as it felt - was just as capable of putting his head through a wall as it was to offer him comfort.

He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the desperation to pass because it always did if he could just wait long enough.

At last, he pulled a shuddery breath into his lungs and opened his eyes.

"You are not the problem here, Sam Winchester," she said, "You never will be. You will be the solution."

"You sure about that?" Sam asked.

"Yes," she said, with certainty. She stroked his face one more time and then her hand fell away.

Sam sat up straighter, cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact.

"You told me once that you'd always be honest with me," he said.

Raeth tensed because she sensed danger in the statement, but she wasn't sure exactly what the threat was.

"I did and I will be," she answered, meeting his eyes when he lifted them to look at her directly.

Sam shifted around on the bed until he was either more comfortable or had reached a conclusion. Raeth wasn't certain which.

"Then I need to ask you a question," he began….


	101. Crazy Enough to Help You

"Before you do, there is something I need to tell you," Raeth said.

Sam's expressive face wrinkled in concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Raeth gave him a gentle, reassuring smile. "That's the point really. You asked me to find Jessica and I did. It took some considerable effort. Everyone's heaven is private and that privacy is closely guarded. But Jessica is fine. I can't give you any more details than that. I'm not sure what the consequence would be. She's in heaven, safe, happy. That's all I can tell you."

Amazement and relief and a fresh wave of guilt exchanged control of Sam's face. Finally he sighed and nodded.

"Good. That's good," he breathed out, a soft laugh that sounded like letting go. He looked down and his gaze was unfocused and faraway.

Raethaniel in turn gazed at Sam. Fine, pale skin burnished his cheekbones and shadowed the angle of his jaw. Exquisitely carved bone defined the arch of his eyebrows above eyes that were suddenly liquid with unshed tears. He looked like a man being pulled into a void. Raeth reached up to brushed the moisture from his eyelashes with her thumb, breaking the moment, drawing him back.

"Are you all right?" She asked, gently.

The worry in her voice might have been his undoing. He turned towards her and gathered her into his arms as if he were drowning. Raeth gave him the warmest safest embrace possible, even wrapping her wings around him, letting him feel their weight, the softness of the feathers. Sam curled up so that his face was buried in her hair, against her shoulder. Raeth held him tightly, stoked her fingers through the silky mass of his hair. Sam seemed to know that this envelopment of him in her arms and in her wings signaled steadfast loyalty. In her caring silence he felt unwavering understanding and support.

It was a tender, vulnerable moment and Raeth suddenly ached to tell him how much she loved him. But right then, basking in the intimacy of that embrace, she knew it was better left unsaid. The time for giving it voice came and then slipped quietly away.

A moment later, Sam Winchester sat up straighter and she watched him withdraw again, despite their newly forged relationship. Beneath Sam's keen intelligence lay a natural vigilance, bred into him during his childhood, perhaps even born in him.

"I'm fine," he said, in a faraway voice that indicated he was deflecting the question rather than answer it.

"Are you ready to ask me your question now?"

"Yeah," he pulled the word out slowly. "But listen, you can't say anything – anything – to Dean about this. I mean it, Raeth. Not. A. Word."

"What if he asks?"

"He won't."

"If he does?"

Sam sighed at her persistence. "Then tell him to ask me. Tell him you promised me you wouldn't say anything. That way he'll know that there is something but he'll respect the fact that you're keeping a promise you made to me."

Raeth looked away and if she had been human she might have sighed. "I'm not comfortable with this. Haven't we learned that it isn't good to hide things from your brother? The world is much less safe when the Winchesters are at odds with each other."

Sam made a short, guttural scoffing noise. "The world is spiraling into the Apocalypse already. How much worse can that get? I'm trying to stop all this, Raeth."

"Then why can't we tell Dean?"

"Because Dean will hate it and you'll probably hate it too. But it's not worth the argument with Dean if it won't even work; and I have no choice but to ask you. I need your help."

Raethaniel met Sam's eyes as if she accepted what he said, but her expression still spoke of wariness, as if she was afraid that Sam was about to lead them into deeper darkness

"My help with what?" She asked with resignation. Not matter where Sam might lead, Raeth knew she would follow.

Relieved, Sam began speaking as if he was reminiscing, voice low, words disjointed. "Years ago, when my family was still hunting Azazel, it possessed my dad. But Dad was able to take back control of his vessel, while it still contained the demon. I was …. So…. Amazed by that, by the strength that must have taken. I'd never heard of anyone being able to do that. I mean, John freaking Winchester, you know…. When I was possessed by Meg, I tried to take control of her but I couldn't and again, for a long time, I thought it was just my dad, just something he could do. I didn't surprise me. So then we met Jesse's mom and she told us that she did the same thing – took control of her demon while still possessed. So that got me thinking that it was linked to some kind of parental instinct, a need to protect your child. But now… I've been… was able to… exorcise demons with a power I didn't know I had and no, I hate how I found that power and I don't want to do that again. But it might still be somewhere inside me and I might still be able to use it."

"This is about exorcising demons?" Raeth asked, confusion knitting her eyebrows together.

""No, it's about maintaining control over something while it's still possessing you."

"You want to let a demon possess you? That won't stop Lucifer from-"

"Not a demon," Sam cut in, "not a demon… an angel."

Comprehension dawned. "You think you can allow an angel to possess you and take back control of your vessel."

"No, that's my question. Can I control an angel who is in possession of my vessel at the time?"

Raethaniel stared at him, just stared, for a long time. Silence dominated the room, not even broken by the sound of breathing. It was as if Sam had become suspended, sitting straight as a ramrod, waiting for her answer. Dark hair curled over his ear. Rigid tension marked the line of his arms and shoulders. The air was thick with the weight of his question.

"Not just an angel," Raeth said, finally, slowly, "an archangel. Specifically, Lucifer."

"Yes."

Raethaniel choked back a rush of anxiety and rage that startled her in its intensity. Emotion was unfamiliar to her, especially strong emotion. She looked into Sam's eyes and found that she was gazing into the heart of a multi-colored flame.

"And you want my help with this," she surmised.

"I want you to tell me if it's possible."

"I don't know," she answered, honestly. "There is a fine line between taking control of the angel and simply withdrawing your permission. If you're trying to control your vessel with the angel still inside it, that's going to be a battle. You're asking if you can win a battle like that and I simply don't know."

"Then help me," Sam pleaded.

"How?"

Sam inhaled slowly and deliberately. "Take possession of me and then fight me."

"Are you out of your mind?" Raeth burst out. She leapt to her feet and took several steps away before whirling back around to face him.

"No," Sam stated, "at least I don't think I am."

"And if you do manage to take control of your vessel with Lucifer still in it, then what? How long do you think you can maintain that control? What are you going to do with it?"

Sam jumped up as well. "I don't know! This is just one step in a plan. If this one step doesn't work then there isn't any point in even considering the others. That's why there isn't any point in mentioning this to Dean yet. He'll have a fit. We'll have an argument and waste a lot of time doing it. You have to help me, Raeth. I have to know if I can do it."

"I'm supposed to protect you!"

"I'm going to do this, with or without your help, and you can't stop me. I stand a better chance with some help from you."

"I'm not an archangel," she protested. "I can't fight you the way he can."

Triumph flared in Sam's eyes and Raeth felt a flash of irritation. He was winning and he knew it.

"Then you'll just have to fight me as hard as you can."

"And you'll have to fight me without specifically ordering me to leave."

"Yes," Sam agreed quickly. "It's all about learning how to do that. Help me, Raeth. I'm stronger with you than without."

She glared at him, dark brown eyes filled with stunning honesty.

"If we find out it's not possible?"

"Then we'll abandon it and find another way."

Raeth pounced on that. "You swear? You'll drop this and never mention it again?"

Sam had been a hunter long enough to recognize when he was cornered. But he nodded anyway, knowing she wouldn't agree to help him if he didn't.

Raeth's chin lifted. Her eyes changed, brown ringed with glowing blue. The shadow of her wings spread on the walls and ceiling behind her.

"All right then Sam," she said in a voice that sounded like midnight. "If you're crazy enough to want to do this, then I can be crazy enough to help you."

(0)


	102. Welcome to Oklahoma

The brothers rarely took any downtime. But the stress of time travel and everything that had happened during their sojourn into the past took its toll on all of them. The angels vanished, together, sometime after dawn, with a significant look at each other and without a word to the brothers. Dean saw them go, since he had barely slept all night. Trying to figure out how to stop the Apocalypse and prevent Lucifer from taking over Sam was definitely going to cause a few sleepless nights.

Confronting Michael himself had also been thought-provoking, if not downright disturbing.

Sam and Dean checked out of the motel and got into the car and just drove.

Dean could tell when Sam's eyes were on him, the sidelong looks. The weight of Sam's worried frown pressed down on him. Dean kept both hands on the wheel and his eyes on the long black ribbon of road in front of him and just drove. He changed tapes in the player without looking.

"You okay?" Sam asked, once.

"Yeah," Dean said. "I'm good."

Sam didn't talk after that. He inhaled and his breathing paused as if he was going to say something more, but he let the breath back out and stayed quiet. Dean was aware of Sam hunkering down in the seat then, curling up deep and tight and getting smaller than should have been possible for a guy his size; so small and so still there wasn't even a glimpse of him in Dean's peripheral vision.

Dean slipped in another tape, gripped the wheel and drove.

The Impala blazed under a sign that said Welcome to Oklahoma, Discover the Excellence as the sun was setting.

They came at last to what passed for civilization on I-240, coming up on the exits for Tulsa, with traffic getting worse and Dean getting cranky. The subtle change in the car's speed woke Sam up, yawning and stretching, blinking as he tried to get his bearings. When Dean blew past the second exit that promised food and lodging, Sam said,

"Hey. Maybe we should stop. I'm hungry and the car has to be running on fumes."

"Yeah," Dean said, reluctantly shifting his wrist to check the fuel gauge and finding the news alarming.

When he didn't show any signs of slowing down at the third exit, Sam said, "Come on. Pull off. Even if you don't care about killing the two of us in an accident, you don't want to take out someone else; or worse, rack up the car."

Dean grunted in acknowledgement and coasted down the exit ramp, letting the car's weight slow it down. The Super 8 was a half a block away and Dean managed to get them into the parking lot by instinct. He sat in the driver's seat, keys in his hands, staring straight ahead with the image of his mother replaying in his head – young, alive, newly wed and aware of all the awful things that went bump in the night – knowing that Sam had gotten out of the car, slammed the door and gone to the motel office.

Dean didn't know how long he'd just been sitting there but then suddenly, Sam was opening the driver's door with a room key in his hand, saying, "Let's go. We'll order pizza and get some beer from the convenience store."

Dean shook himself out of his current state, swung his legs out of the car and hauled himself to his feet. They got duffel bags out of the trunk and locked the car.

"You okay?" Sam asked again, as they walked towards the door of the room.

"Yeah," Dean said, then cleared his throat because his voice had sounded locked up, like it was caught somewhere deep in his chest. "Don't worry about it."

He glanced at up at Sam and got that odd feeling again – the one that came once in a while, when all Dean really wanted was to set Sam free of all this. Not really, not all the way, never enough to just say Sam, go, get out of here, go to school, make a life for yourself that doesn't include Lucifer and Hell. Dean never said those words because he wasn't a goddamned saint and Sam was all he had.

Besides they were in this too deep now and one was just as responsible as the other. Sam had tried to walk away and that hadn't worked out too well. Dean was just dreading whatever it was they were going to have to do. He had a feeling this wasn't going to end well for either of them.

So instead of go Dean said, "Pizza huh? You going to get veggies on yours?"

"Problem with that?" Sam asked, unlocking the door.

Dean thought about it a moment and then shrugged. "Onions are good. Those are veggies right?"

Sam snorted as he threw his duffel on the first bed and then crashed down beside it, stretching the kinks out of his long frame.

"You're so fucking hopeless," he told his brother.

"Bite me," Dean answered, heading for the bathroom. Before he shut the door, he hollered, "Don't get mushrooms!"

(0)


	103. All That Heaven Allows

They spent the next few days driving, stopping only to eat and sleep (sometimes in the car) until they settled for a few days in Pierre, South Dakota at another Super 8. This one offered free breakfast and free wi-fi, so both the brothers were happy. Dean seemed finally tired of driving and was content to settle down for at least a few days. Sam went to work trying to find them a case, preferably something close by.

He was working alone when Raethaniel reappeared in his life. One moment he was sitting by himself in their room and the next she was standing beside him.

"Well, hey," he said, with a hint of sarcasm. "Where've you been? Wait, don't tell me. Heaven stuff?"

The look she gave him combined baffled with affection. "I…. guess? I needed to see Lamechiel."

Sam's eyes narrowed skeptically

"The angel of deception," Sam returned.

"He can also thwart deception. I thought you like Mecca."

"I do," Sam soothed, realizing he had ruffled her feathers. It was hard to remember that Raeth was as loyal to a thousand of her brothers as he was to only Dean. "I'm glad you are back. What did you talk to Mecca about?"

"Your plan to take control of your vessel."

Sam leaned back and frowned, studying her closely. "I guess it's a good thing he's one of the angels I trust. He won't tell Lucifer about this?"

"It wouldn't matter if he did. Lucifer won't believe you have a chance to overtake him. His ego won't allow that. He'll only be pleased that you're considering saying yes. He won't care what the reason is."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Sam said, drily.

"I didn't say I don't believe you can do it. Know your enemy, Sam. Arrogance may be Lucifer's only weakness."

Sam thought about that for a moment and then nodded. "So what did Mecca have to say?"

"He said that only a Winchester would even conceive such a plan," Raeth answered, glaring at Sam. Then her expression softened. She reached out to stroke her fingers down his cheek. "And that only a Winchester could make it work."

Somewhat mollified, Sam's expression turned sad even though he smiled at her.

Raeth sat down in the chair across from him and leaned back.

"There was another reason for talking to the angel of deception," she admitted. "I needed his advice."

"For what?"

"To help me help you. Sam, Lucifer is going to throw everything he has at you. He is a master of deception but he does it by giving you exactly what you want."

"What does Lucifer have that I want?" Sam wondered, skepticism creeping into his tone again. Maybe it wasn't fear she saw on his face, but it was something close to it. As she watched, Sam's cockiness faltered a bit.

"Honestly?" Raeth demanded.

Sam sat up straighter and swallowed. But he nodded.

"Power." She spoke bluntly. "Knowledge."

"But I don't-"

"Yes, you do," Raeth interrupted. "Didn't we recently establish that you're angry about everything, and all the time? Lucifer is going to use that. He's going to make you want him to maintain control over your vessel by giving you everything you ever wanted. He's going to tell you things about your past that you never knew, fill in gaps in your understanding; and it will all be the truth. Temptation is Lucifer's game and he plays it perfectly. You're going to have to resist him somehow. If you take control of your vessel, you will lose his power. You can contain it, but you won't be able to use it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Sam said, nodding. He was still pale but he was looking straight into her eyes, chin tilted up. "I'm still not going to let him kill Dean."

"That will be your strength. The love you have for your brother is your greatest weakness and your greatest strength. Neither Mecca nor I can quite figure out how Lucifer will be able to use it against you. His destiny is to fight Michael, after all. Lucifer's other strategy is deception. He will lock you in a place in your mind where you believe you have taken control back, or where you believe it was all a dream and never happened. He can make you believe anything he wants. You're going to have to be stronger than you have ever been."

Sam nodded again. "Are you still willing to help me?"

Raeth looked so unhappy that for a moment Sam considered abandoning the entire plan. But then she said,

"I'm going to throw everything I have at you, Sam; everything I ever used to defeat the demons I've hunted and destroyed, all the power that Heaven allows me. If you feel overwhelmed, drive me out. There is no shame in that. This is only training. You'll need time. If you're ready we can begin."

"Now?" Sam seemed startled.

"Is there a reason to wait? You aren't hunting anything at the moment?"

"No, I'm not."

Sam stood up, closed the laptop and said, "Then let's start."

"Lock the door," she said, "Put out the Do Not Disturb and chain it up."

"Is that going to be enough?" Sam asked, as he complied.

"This battle will be internal. Mecca is guarding the room and Castiel is distracting Dean."

"How is Cas doing that?"

"There actually is a case in this town, a factory downtown is being haunted. It's nothing that Dean can't handle with Castiel's help. So you need to focus on what we are doing? Surrender your vessel to me. Do it now."

Sam squared his shoulders. "I'll do it when I'm ready," he answered.

Raeth's mouth curled into a satisfied, feral smile. She waited, watching Sam prepare for what he knew was going to be the battle of his life. At last he looked at her with determination in his eyes.

"Do you want this vessel?" He asked.

"Do you want this battle?" She countered.

"Yes," he replied.

"It's the only way. Will you surrender your vessel to me, Sam Winchester?"

He nodded, a single inclination of his head, with grace and dignity. "I will. Take it, Raethaniel. I surrender myself to you."

To his surprise she vanished entirely for a moment. Then she reappeared as only a shining cloud of blue and white, mist and light. It was her Grace alone. What she had done with her vessel, Sam didn't know. The cloud floated towards him. Bright light blinded him.

The next thing he knew he was standing in 'nothing', surrounded by fog, bathed in milky light. Then he heard a sound, like chains being dragged over concrete, followed by rustle of dead leaves. His senses sharpened, but the noise was coming from all around him. Something lurked in the fog. It wasn't malevolence that stalked him. It wasn't evil… But it was…..

Power. It was something ancient. His chest hurt, because he knew what it was.

Something began emerging from the fog. When he realized what it was, his breath caught in his chest and made it ache. He was right and he was also very very wrong. First all he could see was the giant wedge-shaped head, iridescent scales glimmering white and gold, shining like stars, like mother-of-pearl. Sam had seen her before in his dreams, when she had been in repose, most of her true form hidden in the chamber beyond. Now she came towards him and the mist parted around her.

She was enormous, so long and slender she should have looked ungainly walking. She seemed a creature of the air, wings held aloft, feathers gold-tipped. He couldn't even see all of her. Her back legs and tail were still hidden in the mist. But he understood now that the 'chains' were her lethal talons dragging on the surface. The dry leaves were her tail, gliding behind her. Eyes, bright and intense, stared at him as she approached.

She was terrifying. Sam swallowed, sharply reminding himself that she was still his guardian angel, no matter what form she took, no matter what vessel she inhabited. She was still his guardian and she couldn't really hurt him.

Like a prayer, he whispered her name.

Raethaniel.


	104. The Truth of His Existence

"Yes," her voice echoed in his head like thunder rolling in a canyon, "I am Raethaniel, the Sacred Mystery, Demon Slayer, Demon's Bane. I am the Daughter of the Most High God. I have existed for millions of years before you were even First Born. I am sovereignty bound by Right and holiness tempered by Grace. I am eternal Fire. Do you really think you can control me?"

It was the greatest dare Sam had ever heard. At the same time her giant head, jaws dropped to reveal fangs larger than he was, came snaking towards him. Her mouth opened further and then snapped shut on air as he danced sideways. He felt something appear in his hand and closed his fist around it automatically. Glancing down he saw the familiar three-sided form of a gleaming angel blade. It startled Sam for a moment, because he had been thinking of one and now there it was.

There was a sound like boulders rolling downhill that Sam realized was Raethaniel laughing.

"This isn't a fight to the death, Sam. This is about control. You can't kill me in this form. You can only seek to bring me to heel. Here. This is what you want back."

Suddenly he was no longer in the misty place. He was in the motel room, surrounded by bad décor, seated at the table. His laptop was there but closed. There was a yellow notepad in front of him and he was sketching a picture of the Impala with a pencil, which was remarkable because Sam knew that he couldn't actually draw anything.

But Raeth could draw, and very well. He tried to stop and couldn't. He could only watch.

Sam ground his teeth together and tried to stop again, to put down the pencil by force of his own will. His hand continued to move with ease, shaping the details of the car that had been his only true home for almost all of his life.

Nothing happened. The pencil continued moving, lightly filling in the details of the Impala's grill.

"You see?" Raethaniel said. "I have your vessel. You surrendered it to me. You have no power to gain it back without expelling me. Do you want me gone, Sam? Say the word."

"No," Sam snarled and was instantly back in the mist, facing her.

"Stubborn man," Raethaniel replied, circling him. Her long mane of scales clattered like diamonds. Light swirled in her multifaceted eyes. "All right then. Let your training begin. You cannot kill me in here, so the angel blade is useless."

As she spoke the blade in his hand vanished. Sam clenched his fist in frustration because he wasn't certain if he had banished it or she had taken it from him.

She lowered her head almost to the floor and turned so that Sam was looking straight into her right eye. Everything in him screamed to take a step back, but he held his ground.

"I have something you want," she crooned seductively. "Something you can only destroy in this form, with my help; and I promise you that you'll want to destroy this once you learn what it is."

"What could you possibly have that I want?" Sam demanded.

She moved her head back and forth. Her neck undulated sensually.

"The demon who first tortured your brother in Hell," Raeth replied. The words slid out seductively.

She glided away from him, leaving him gaping at her.

"Alastair is dead. I killed him."

"No," She said, turning away from him, gliding past so that he could see all of her. It seemed to take hours for her tail to finally appear. In all that time, Sam was speechless, with rage and helplessness, and with awe. The dragon was terrifying and compelling.

"Alastair was ordered to continue torturing Dean," Raeth told him in a voice that sounded of winter winds,"by the angel who worked beside Lucifer during the rebellion, the second angel to fall. Xaphan, who is now the Prince of Hell and walks the Earth serving his Master. Xaphan is the one who first put Dean on the rack, who recognized him as a righteous man who might be turned."

Rage began to build inside Sam; and when his anger gave way to rage violence surely followed.

"So why haven't the angels killed him?" Sam challenged.

Raeth turned back to look at him again. "Why didn't they kill Alastair?" She countered. "Either they want something from him or he just isn't of any concern to them. Either way, I know where he is and I can give him to you."

"I'll get him myself," Sam replied.

"You can't. He is another demon-angel, too strong for you. Too strong for me, truth be told. But together-"

"Why?" Sam demanded. "Why could we do it together and not separately?"

"Ruby told you one thing that was not a lie," Raeth said. She continued to move. The sound of it was becoming lyrical. The light playing off her scales was hypnotic. "You've always had a power over demons. But you won't need demon blood now. You have me. You're chained to an angel of the Lord, by your own free will. Xaphan tortured Dean in unspeakable ways, for months before turning him over to Alastair. You are no match for Xaphan unless you want to resort to demon blood again and you know what lies at the end of that path. If you want Xaphan, just say the word."

Anger was sizzling through Sam like an electrical charge. He had just recently admitted to Dean – and to himself – that he was angry almost all the time. This was the truth of his existence – this gaping chasm filled only with rage. It usually lay dormant inside him, an inactive volcano of emotion. But now it came roiling out like a nest of disturbed vipers.

He would never forgive what had happened to his brother in Hell, what had happened because he – Sam – had been stupid enough to get himself killed. He had believed the demon responsible for Dean's agony was dead, that he'd had his revenge.

"Where is he?" Sam ground out through his teeth. His jaw was tight, forehead furrowed, His clenched fists spoke volumes.

Sounding utterly satisfied, Raeth said, "I will take you to him."

(0)

A/N: Credit for the idea of creating this demon for Raeth to use in tempting Sam goes to fellow #SPNFamily member Samantha Schultz, on the FB group Carry On's Supernatural Discussion Group. Thanks so much for the inspiration.


	105. Chained to a Comet

Sam had been transported by angels, so he was familiar with the process. But he had never actually flown before, not as the vessel.

Chained to a comet indeed…..

He knew the journey had only taken seconds, but in that short amount of time, Raethaniel explained what she knew of Xaphan. As his punishment for rebellion he had been given a permanent human form; a punishment that required hunger and sleep and pain and all the other human inconveniences. Then this creature trapped in human form has been cast into Hell, where he had crawled up from the depths to become the reigning Prince, ruling in Lucifer's place until the day came that he could be freed from the Cage.

Raeth projected an image into Sam's mind of a tall man with a countenance pale as the moon, astonishingly handsome. He had long, long black hair – almost as long as Raeth's, Sam's seemed short in comparison.

There was quiet madness in his cold, gray eyes.

Sam had been expecting something horrible, demonic. This Being had tortured Dean so Sam didn't care what form it took. When they landed he saw that they were in an ol factory, on a catwalk, facing the demon-angel. The room was cavernous, echoing with dusty silence. Ambient light filtered through dirty skylights overhead. He asked Raeth,

What do you need from me?

I need you to destroy the part of him that has become a demon. Can you feel it? Intermingled with the angel? I am not strong enough to deal with both. The combination is powerful.

Yes, I feel it. Sam also felt the hunter inside him stirring. There was a demon to destroy. He hadn't attempted to access his unusual power for months. But he did; and it came much too easily to him. He understood now that the demon blood had simply broken down his resistance, crumbled the barriers he had built in his mind to anything that made him more of a freak. The demon blood had strengthened his vessel as well; or he might have flown apart under the stress.

His vessel was protected this time by an angel. He was stronger than he had ever been. He reached inside for the advantageous curse he had been given, drawing it out, making certain that Raethaniel could see it.

While he worked, an angel blade appeared in his hand. Raethaniel seemed to have no problem at all functioning within Sam's vessel. Gracefully she moved into a defensive stance as she faced Xaphan.

The mad angel turned to her.

"Little sister," he said, with a formal nod of his head.

"Brother," Raeth returned, in Sam's voice.

Sam felt a jolt for a moment, until he remembered Raethaniel's incredible ability to love all of her brothers and sisters no matter what they had done. It was one of the things he loved about her.

Xaphan's eyes narrowed. "Isn't that Sam Winchester's vessel? Did you really come to confront me while in possession of the one thing my Master wants and needs?"

Sam felt his shoulder lift and fall in a casual shrug. "Neither of you can have Sam without his permission. At the moment only I have that."

Frustration flared, pulled the handsome face into a grimace of anger.

"Then why are you here?" He demanded and then continued with scathing sarcasm. "To bring me back from the Fall? To Save me?"

"Or to destroy you," Raeth replied, easily. "That will be your choice."

Within the vessel, Sam raged. He had come here to exact vengeance against one of the demons who had pushed Dean over the edge; not to save a fallen angel. He flung himself forward against Raethaniel, trying to use his power. He was brought up short by her true form. The dragon lifted one huge foot and brought it down, capturing Sam with its claws, forming a cage around him.

You can cast me out, Sam. But I would suggest this isn't the best time.

Sam was still boiling over with anger, but now he had no choice but to wait.

Why? He snarled.

Because he is my brother. You of all people should understand how difficult this is for me.

Sam swallowed his anger. Can you do it?

There was a moment's pause before she answered. There is an angel blade in our hand for a reason. The dragon claws around him lifted, setting him free. Give me your power, Sam.

He did. He felt as if he was being drawn into an overload of energy, channeled into something ancient and holy. His determination and controlled anger, his clean fighting prowess, were all pulled being pulled together with something vast and complex, a bottomless well of power.

Raethaniel…..

He whispered it with awe as they became more and more intertwined, as she offered him more than he had ever thought possible. He felt the danger of it, the destructive potential. Too much of this kind of strength could be his downfall.

Still, Sam abandoned caution and pushed outward, willing his demon-killing ability into the hands of his guardian angel until they became power incarnate.

Xaphan made his choice. His angel blade materialized in his hand and he lunged towards Raethaniel.

She had felt him make his choice before he ever moved. Before he took his first step, she had whirled out of the way, spinning on the ball of one foot, effortlessly moving Sam's body out of harm's way. When Xaphan closed with her his blade did not meet a flesh and blood vessel. It met the celestial metal of her weapon. The blades clashed and rang against each other like a cracked bell. For a moment the opponents faced each other, eye to eye, blades grinding against each other in the inner ring. Then Raethaniel planted a foot in Xaphan's chest and pushed him forcibly backwards.

"Xaphan, don't," she warned. "You can't risk killing Sam Winchester. Think how furious Lucifer would be if you sent Sam to Heaven."

"How do you know that's where he's going?" Xaphan sneered as they circled each other.

"Oh please," Raeth's laugh was a carillon of amusement. "He's already been there, many times. Your Master won't be able to get him out of Heaven so easily. I'm sure he could, but at what cost?"

"Then I'll just have to take you to him alive!" Xaphan leapt forward in challenge.

Sam had trained with Raethaniel. He knew how good she was with her blade. But it quickly became obvious that she was not going to achieve an early resolution against a brother who was highly motivated to stay alive (and whom she really did not want to kill.) The empty room was now filled with the sounds of their boots on the catwalk and the clash of their blades. Sparks flew from the holy weapons as they smashed against each other.

Sam felt his own power beginning to work, beginning to surround the demonic part of their opponent. Xaphan growled and Sam pushed harder, feeding more of it to Raethaniel. Entwined with her angelic powers, it wrapped around Xaphan, strangling him. Xaphan took on a frenzied expression. The glitter in his mad grey eyes brightened with uncertainty.

Raethaniel drove Xaphan backward, along the railing, putting him on the defensive at last.

Good, Sam thought.

He knew Raethaniel's fighting style and moved with her through it, anticipating the strikes of her blade as if he were in control. All the while he fought against Xaphan's demon nature, twisting it, bending it to his well.

Stroke for stroke they battled until they came to a junction of catwalks, creating an opening in the narrow space. Raeth parried a down stroke in the middle ring and whirled swiftly to the right. With her back to Xaphan, she let him lunge forward. At the last possible second she did a half-turn and made a blind reverse thrust.

The angel blade caught Xaphan in the midsection. It seared through cloth and then flesh and bone. Xaphan made no sound, though Sam was screaming in triumph. The demon-angel took a step back as Raethaniel withdrew her weapon. He stood motionless, staring at Raethaniel, shock and rage twisting his handsome features.

"Brother," she whispered.

Xaphan's arms lowered and a great weariness seemed to come over him.

"You've won, little sister," he said as he dropped to his knees. Then he slumped over and his angel blade clattered to the floor beside him.

Raethaniel stood over Xaphan's defeated and lifeless form. Sam stared down at it, helpless, though he was looking out of his own eyes.

Then he was once again in the mist with Raethaniel's true form. The dragon's multifaceted eyes were filled with tears. Her wings were folded tight against her body. Sam watched in horror as her long, graceful neck crumbled to the ground, bringing her great wedge-shaped head to rest in front of him.

Wild with grief such as Sam had never seen, Raethaniel threw back her head, opened long jaws and howled.

(0)


	106. Believe

THEN:

Sam couldn't remember a time when he hadn't prayed. Sometimes when Dad and Dean were gone and he hadn't heard from them for a long time and he wondered if they were ever coming back, prayer was all he had. If there were so many bad things in the world, then surely there must be good things too; things like Heaven and God and angels, things that would watch over him and protect him if Dad and Dean didn't come back.

Sometimes, it was comforting and sometimes it wasn't.

Midway through Sam's freshman year of High School, Dad quit moving them around quite as much as he used to. Sam got to spend a lot of time in one school for the first time in his young life. He had always adapted easily to a new place, but he had also learned not to get to know anyone very well. But then he found himself working on a group project in History and the next thing he knew he was hanging out with a few friends, going to dances. He started running track and picked up extra credit projects to boost his chances of getting scholarships – math tournaments, science fairs, debate club and, of all things, joining the after school Bible study. The Bible fascinated him and he picked it up quickly.

It was a relief to be with other people who also prayed, who believed as strongly as he did, even if they believed somewhat differently.

The only one who seemed to care was Dean, even if all he did to show it was clap Sam on the shoulder and tease him about being a geek.

Then Dad came home from a week's hunting trip and said, "Start packing. Time to go."

The fight was brutal and ended with Sam throwing his history book at the TV, shattering it. Sam was up and out the door before the sparks stopped flying. He started to run and didn't quit until he made it to the spot under the abandoned railroad trestle where the kids all went to hang out.

It hurt because it was exactly the kind of thing he wouldn't know in the next place he landed – where the kids hung out. He hunched down on the sloping bank in the fading light of day, shivering a little because he'd left without his jacket.

He folded his hands tight together and prayed. He prayed that Dad would change his mind, that they could stay, that he'd get to ask Sheryl to the prom and she'd say yes, that everything could just be normal for a while. The house they were renting was small but it was a house, a real one and it was just like it was theirs. He began listing angels, invoking them by name, calling on them for help. Ariel, angel of protection, Lamechiel, angel who thwarts deception, Rahmiel, angel of mercy…

He didn't know how long he prayed, how lost he had gotten in it until he felt someone kneel down beside him and drape a jacket over his shoulders. He broke off, eyes flashing open. There was only one person in the whole world that could sneak up on him.

Dean.

He must have walked, or run, because the growl of the Impala would have alerted Sam. His brother sat down beside him with a thump, staring out at the ravine.

"Man," Dean said, shaking his head. "I was watching that TV."

Sam snorted. "Sorry," he said, unapologetically.

"Yeah," Dean said, picking up a stone and tossing it into the abyss. "No, you're not."

"No, I'm not," Sam admitted. "What took you so long to find me?"

"Had to break into the pawn shop and get a new TV so Dad doesn't go ballistic on your ass when you come back."

Sam shook his head. For all his faith, for all his belief, his prayers had gone unanswered.

Again.

Maybe the angels wanted him to make his own miracles.

"I'm not going back," he said, "I've got some places in town I can crash for a while. I'll get a job."

"Screw that," Dean snapped. "You're coming home."

"We don't have a home," Sam snapped back. "There's nothing to go to except you and Dad and the car. I don't want that anymore. I want to stay here. I want to try out for soccer. I want to spend the summer at the lake with my friends. You go with him. But I am not leaving."

There were tears in his eyes when he finished.

"God dammit, Sammy," Dean said, turning to grab him and give him a rough shake. "Don't even joke. Don't even start with that crap!"

Sam tried to pull away and couldn't, so instead he crashed forward until his head hit Dean's shoulder and then all the loss and emptiness and frustration came pouring out in raw, gulping sobs that hurt his throat and made his chest ache. Dean's arms came up around his shoulders, holding him tight, awkwardly patting his brother's back.

"I've… prayed," Sam choked out. "I've prayed and prayed, Dean and it doesn't help. It doesn't stop. Why doesn't it stop?"

Dean cleared his throat because he'd never known that Sam prayed, or that Sam believed.

"Aww, fuck, Sam. You know I'm not into any of that stuff. How would I know?"

Sam quieted slowly. Dean let him go, carefully, like Sam might break if he moved too fast. He propped Sam up, ruffled his hair. Sam scrubbed his hands over his face, scratched at his scalp.

"I don't want to go back," he said, again. "Besides, Dad will kill me."

"Nah, it's good," Dean said, "I talked to Dad."

Sam blinked in surprise. "What did you say?"

"You let me worry about that," Dean said, shrugging it off. "Oh, and we're not leaving right now. We're staying at least until this school year is over. But I'll be going away with Dad – a lot – so you're going to have to be okay with that."

Sam stared at Dean. "What? You mean the angels actually did answer my prayers this time?"

"I don't know about any of that," Dean said, sounding dismissive. "I mean, if that's true then I'm suddenly an instrument of divine intervention and that's a bunch of bull. Though maybe, if there is anything to all this angel stuff, it's not that they aren't answering you. It's that the answer is no."

Sam was speechless for a moment and then burst out in a frustrated wail, "Why?"

"Because we're Winchesters and this is what we do," Dean paused and waved his hand at the darkening sky and the glitter of stars that were appearing. "Is there an angel of Fate?"

"Marmarothiel," Sam supplied.

Dean just gazed back for a moment and then shook his head. "You're such a geek," he said. "So, okay, if you believe so much, pray to this Marmot-"

"Marmarothiel," Sam corrected.

"Yeah, him. Ask him if this is your Fate. Ask him for some kind of sign."

"I didn't think you believed," Sam said.

Dean stood up, grasped Sam's hand and hauled him to his feet. "Yeah, but you do."

They both heard it at the same time – the rumpling purr of the Impala, the crunch of tires on the gravel edge of the road above them.

Sam's steps faltered, still not wanting to face his father after the worst fight of their lives.

"It's okay," Dean said.

Sam nodded and believed in Dean, almost more than he believed in Heaven and God and angels.

"We've seen so many evil things," Sam said on the way up the bank. "Do you think we'll ever see angels, if they exist?"

"I don't know, Sammy," Dean answered, but sensed what his brother wanted to hear. "But who knows? Maybe."

No one said a word as they climbed into the car. Sam took his place in the backseat and laid down, closing his eyes and pretending to sleep.

Just like Dean said, they didn't move again until the middle of the summer. He got to play soccer and won a tournament. Dad even kept the trophy on the mantle for a while. Sam never found out what Dean had said to make that happen and he never asked again.

But it restored Sam's faith so he kept right on praying, believing that angels were listening.

(0)


	107. Twilight and Dawn

The next thing Sam knew he was sitting at the table in the motel room. Startled, he stood up; and then belatedly realized that he was able to control his body again. He had a moment of extreme dizziness, in which the whole room tilted and swayed. His vision blurred around the edges and his ears rang. He put out a hand to steady himself against the table until it passed.

His body – his vessel – felt like the third day of a two day bender.

"Raeth?" He said, looking around, trying to clear his vision. When he didn't find her, he repeated it more emphatically. "Raeth!"

She appeared in front of him in her original vessel, blond hair disheveled and eyes still full of tears.

"Are you angry?" She asked.

Sam blinked, trying to process the question. He knew that she was still grieving and had prepared to comfort her. In fact, he had already taken a step towards her, arms lifting to offer her an embrace. Her question brought him up short. With a heavy, resigned sigh he admitted,

"Apparently I am, all the time. But what should I be angry about this time?"

"I deceived you, seduced you into doing what I wanted."

Sam sighed and ran both hands through his hair, smoothing it down against his skull.

"I know. But that was part of the lesson wasn't it? I went in prepared to battle for my vessel and instead you made me want to stay. You showed me the kind of power that can be mine. You gave me an enemy I wanted to destroy. …. Lucifer's going to do all that too. Isn't he? He's going to make me forget I ever wanted to control him."

"He'll do all that and much more. I can only offer you the power of an angel, a foot soldier in Heaven's army. Lucifer is an arch angel. He can give you anything and anyone that you've ever wanted. He can offer you revenge on people you don't even know exist. He can bring back anyone – Azazel if you want, just so you could have revenge on him over and over.

"Lucifer's talent is deception. He'll know exactly how to get to you, how to prey on your weaknesses. He'll tease you and misdirect you until you forget the danger and open yourself to him completely. Can you resist that Sam?"

Shaken but refusing to admit it, Sam snapped, "I didn't have any motivation to resist you. You weren't trying to kill Dean."

Tears spilled over her lashes. To Sam Raethaniel suddenly looked like a porcelain angel, fragile, on the verge of teetering and shattering.

"No," she whispered, "I just needed you to help me kill my brother."

Sam's heart stuttered as he forgot his own pain. It didn't matter that Raethaniel had thousands of siblings. He knew that she loved them all – fallen and saved, pro-apocalypse and anti. Yes she loved some more than others, but each one was family to Raeth. Family was something Sam understood. He held out his arms. "C'mere," he said, voice breaking.

Raeth stepped forward into the comfort of his embrace. For once Sam did not bend over to surround her in the warm cocoon of his body. He stood up tall, feet braced, and gave her something solid to lean on. He knew that in her true form, she was bigger than he was. But he had also seen that true form collapse from grief as if it had been made of cards. So he stood like the corner stone of the world and held her tight.

"You found out about Xaphan days ago, didn't you?" He spoke in a mild croon, almost a monotone. "When you and Cas disappeared without a word, you heard something on angel radio. That's why you took off like that."

She nodded, her hair rustling against his shirt. "Yes," she agreed.

"That's when you decided to use me to help you destroy him." Sam couldn't help but continue. No matter how much he wanted to comfort her, he couldn't turn off his super-heated thoughts. His brain rushed to put together the puzzle, to find all the pieces until he was satisfied.

"Or save him," she said. "There was always hope."

She tilted her head back so that she could look up into his face. Her eyes were still full of pain.

"You asked me to help you learn how to defeat Lucifer. In order to do that, I have to access the warrior I was trained to be. You've brought out more and more emotion in me, Sam Winchester. In an angel, that is considered to be a great failing. Lucifer will not treat you with tenderness, especially if he suspects your plan. I can't either and if you are honest, you will admit that too. I am your Guardian. I will do what I have to do in order to protect you. But if that includes using you in some very unpleasant ways, then I will. Even if it means using you as the instrument to destroy one of my wayward brothers, I will."

Sam nodded and gathered her against him again, forcing her head back down as he did. The tension ran out of her and she allowed it. It seemed to Sam that Raeth had already run through all the stages, through anger and denial, passed bargaining and had now tumbled headlong into depression and acceptance.

"I'm sorry we couldn't save him," he said, quietly.

"I am too," she answered. "Castiel warned me that Xaphan was too far gone In fact, he didn't want me to face him at all, even within your vessel. He wanted to mount an army."

"What made you insist on doing it this way?"

He waited for her to answer but she didn't right away. He could feel the reluctance.

'Raeth, what's wrong? Is there something you aren't telling me?"

"No," she said, quickly. "It's just never come up before. In the days before the Rebellion, when this Earth was still spinning into existence at my Father's command, Lucifer would often seek me out, spend time with me. He would even spar with me, help me to hone my skills with the angel blade. Lucifer is probably the reason I became a demon hunter and why I was so successful doing it. I adored him – my beautiful big brother who was so strong, so brilliant, first among the archangels. Even in those days he had a dual nature – part dream, part nightmare, all things bright and terrible. He was both twilight and dawn. Most of the time, it seemed like he was too powerful for Heaven to contain.

"But the mystery is why he took such an interest in me at all. I have never known why, or claimed to understand and when I would ask him he would just give me this enigmatic smile and tell me that one day I would know and understand. But if that day has come then I somehow missed it. I still don't understand."

"But you thought it might help when you confronted Xaphan," Sam surmised.

"Yes," Raeth agreed, "I convinced Castiel that an army would only drive Xaphan into further rebellion. But that he knew me once as a favorite of Lucifer and that I might be able to talk to him. It was our hope, at least. Castiel and Mecca were standing by in case we needed help."

"We didn't," Sam said, simply. He stroked a hand down her back. He bent over finally, cradling her with the human form they had recently shared. "Thank you for the lesson. I know what it cost you to do it."

"I have no choice in the cost of these lessons, Sam," she answered. "I will protect you, no matter what."

Sam fell silent after that, content to hold her, rocking her like the wind and rain. It had been a hard lesson, once that had left them stripped and shaken. He had learned it, he thought. He was determined to learn it, for Raethaniel's sake.

But what fascinated Sam – what frightened him – was that his training was a long way from being over.

(0)


	108. I'm Proud of You

This is a tag to My Bloody Valentine, after the credits roll.

(0)

Losing hope and feeling as if water was closing over his head for the final time, Dean staggered outside. It was blessedly quiet but that did not give him peace. He could still hear Sam screaming. The echo was trapped in his head.

Even if they won in the end, Evil was leaving devastation in its wake.

On the verge of breaking, Dean gasped out, "Please...I can't...I need some help…Please?"

He didn't expect an answer. If there was a higher power it must have abandoned them decades ago. But to his surprise there was a sudden rush of wings and Raethaniel appeared before him.

Anger roiled up to replace the heartbreak.

"You?" He demanded. "You're the answer?"

"You prayed for Sam. So of course I heard you," she answered, calmly.

"You didn't hear Sam screaming? Where have you been?"

A scowl darkened her perfect features. Her eyes became crystal hard, multi-faceted amber and mahogany. A ripple of fear rushed up Dean's spine.

"I've been fighting my brothers and sisters in this war you started." The low tone of her voice held a warning for him not to pursue that line of questioning.

It was a warning Dean ignored. He didn't care anymore.

"You should have been here protecting Sam!" He snapped. "Isn't that your job?"

"I was," she answered, "There were angels who were very anxious to help Famine succeed."

"There were," Dean repeated.

"Now there aren't." It was a simple statement of fact, but it held all the pain of someone who had just watched more of her siblings die – and at her own hand. She braced her feet and squared her shoulders before continuing, "You had Castiel with you and even he was taken over by Famine. Do you think that I am somehow stronger? There was only one person in all of Creation that could have destroyed Famine and he was already with you."

Dean wasn't slow, but it was sometimes hard to get his brain to make the necessary calculations when he was angry and worried about Sam.

Sam….

"You knew," he growled. "You knew Sam would use demon blood to destroy Famine and you let it happen."

"No I didn't!" Raethaniel snapped back. Mutual concern for Sam shaped their anger, molded it into a weapon that would join them or destroy them. "I wasn't the one who let it happen but I had very strict orders. I wasn't happy about it. You must know that. I was given orders to protect him from the angels who were trying to trap him for Lucifer. We all knew where he was. I kept him from being taken…. And I will help him through this now."

"Can you?" Dean's voice was no more forgiving than it had been a moment before, but there was a touch of hope in it.

Raeth sighed. "If he lets me. If he is cognizant enough to let me help him."

Dean frowned. "What does that mean?"

Raethaniel put a leash on her temper. Dean was only angry because he was worried about Sam. This was something she could understand.

"I'm going to ask him for his vessel," she told him bluntly and forged on even when anger flared anew in Dean's eyes. "I can control the withdrawal. I can shield him from it. But he has to be lucid enough to say yes and mean it."

Dean gaped at her. "You're going to possess him?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Can you just, I don't know, touch him and take it away?"

"If that could be done wouldn't Castiel have done it?"

Defeated, Dean was forced to nod, weary of the whole thing. Raethaniel took a step towards him and Dean tensed. Raethaniel's moods were like quicksilver and he still hadn't learned to keep up with her. But she only put her hand on his cheek and stroked it lightly. Instantly, Dean felt better; still tired, yes, but no longer hopeless and devastated.

"You'll take care of him?" Dean asked.

It was hard for him to hand over the care of his brother to someone else. But if she could actually ease Sam's agony then he would do so and be relieved..

"Yes," she promised and then leaned in to kiss his cheek. She tenderly stroked it with her hand once more and then she vanished.

(0)

The pain had teeth and claws. It was razor wire over raw nerves. It was unbearable yet unescapable. Sam had screamed until his throat was raw. Every movement was agony. Every breath was fire. He tried to sit up and go to the door but the instant he moved nausea hit with stunning speed and force. Sam gasped and leaned over the side of the horrible little metal bed and heaved thin green bile laced with black blood onto the concrete floor.

Then he had curled up on his side, shivering, sobbing and silently begging Death to rescue him from the roiling, grinding hell of withdrawal.

His sense of time was lost in the misery. It might have been days or weeks…. Months…..

It was probably minutes.

"Sam."

Raethaniel's voice was feather-light, gentle, a soft contralto layered with sympathy. But it fell on his ears like screaming. Sam forced his eyes open, gasping her name.

"Raeth!"

"I can help you, Sam," she told him.

Crying in pain from the sound but reaching for her words like a life preserver, Sam said, "Then do it! What are you waiting for?"

"I need to take possession of your vessel. I need your permission. Give me your vessel, Sam."

The laugh that burst from him was sarcastic and short. "Take it! I don't want it at the moment!"

It was like being swept into a maelstrom. Awareness fled. Control of his body fled. He floated for a moment blissfully free of pain. Darkness surrounded him, cocooned him in a strange cold/warmth before he gradually became aware again.

He was lying in the sand on a beach. There were gulls softly crying and waves lapping peacefully against the shore. He sat up, gingerly at first and then more quickly as he realized that the pain was no longer a factor. Finally, he regained his feet, staring out at the calm sea, the drifting clouds, and the palm tree swaying in the slight breeze.

"I remembered this one of your favorite dreams," Raeth said.

Sam spun around to find Raethaniel walking out of the library room she had created to shield his dreams from Lucifer.

"It is," he acknowledged; then laughed drily. "All those trips back and forth across the country, you'd have thought my father could have squeezed in a trip to the beach. But he never did. I always thought it might be nice."

"That's obvious," Raeth said, coming to stand beside him. "This is what you imagined after all."

Sam groped for her hand, found it and wrapped his hand around it tightly.

"No dragon this time," he observed, looking her up and down.

"No. My True form is busy battling with yours."

"But I never see your True form. I couldn't and survive. All you can show me is an illusion." Which she usually did to either comfort him with her presence or terrify him.

Raeth smiled at him like a proud mentor and inclined her in a single nod.

Sam swallowed. "My… True form, my vessel, will it survive?"

"Yes of course it will. I'll return it to you when the storm has passed."

His grip on her hand tightened. He would have broken it if they had been mortal.

"Is it hurting you? Being inside my vessel?" He asked, anxiously.

Raethaniel lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "It isn't pleasant," she answered, "But it is survivable and it will pass."

"I'm sorry, Raeth," Sam said, "I am very, very grateful that you're shielding me from it. But I am so sorry I got myself into it in the first place."

"You didn't!" She said, sharply. She twisted her hand out of his and stepped in front of him.

It was difficult to effectively scold Sam Winchester, being almost a foot shorter than he was and significantly more slender. Raeth somehow managed it.

"You didn't do anything," she stated firmly, "You went on what you thought was nothing more than a hunt and wound up being cursed by Famine. I still don't understand how Dean wasn't affected at all and Castiel is barely on his feet from the ordeal. You were set up. You were drugged. You were barely thinking straight and yet you still did the right thing. You defeated Famine and because of that you saved millions of lives. This was no act of free will on your part."

Sam turned away. His hands clenched into fists briefly. His mouth set in a straight line. Raeth felt a chill of apprehension.

"What, Sam?"

"I would have," he said, softly.

"Would have what?" Raeth asked, knowing the answer and not really wanting to hear it, but knowing also that Sam needed to say it.

Sam inhaled and then spoke in a rush, getting the words out as quickly as he could.

"If I had known that using demon blood would give me the power to destroy Famine I would have done it myself, even without the compulsion."

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, as if the confession had freed him from something.

Raeth touched his hand gently and Sam opened his eyes. "Of course you would," she whispered.

Startled Sam's eyes opened wider and then narrowed in suspicion. Raeth felt a flash of annoyance at whatever person or circumstance had made Sam so uncertain of his own worth.

"If you had to sacrifice yourself to save the lives of millions then that is exactly what you would do; and Dean would be furious with you but he'd get over it eventually. What is the expression you use – he be 'chewing your backside about it' all the while he was taking care of you. But he'd take care of you nonetheless because that's what he does."

Tears blurred Sam's vision and he wondered if it was real or an illusion. It felt real – the ache in his throat, the tears sitting unshed just behind his lashes.

The next thing he knew Raeth was standing close to him, reaching up to slip her arms around his neck.

"Come down here," she commanded gently and Sam complied, bending over into the embrace, locking his arms around her so tightly that it would have been uncomfortable under ordinary circumstances.

The circumstances were anything but normal.

Raeth turned her face into Sam's hair and whispered soft words of comfort and reassurance. He heard them, vaguely, dismissing most of them – it's all right, it will pass, things will be fine….

But one phrase he heard and he clung to it above all the rest. I'm proud of you, Sam… I'm so proud of you…

If some small part of Heaven was proud of him, if his guardian said it and meant it, all the rest could be lies. But if this one thing was true then it was all the comfort that Sam would ever need.

(0)


	109. Soul Weary

"You should lie down," Raethaniel suggested. It was late morning and Sam was sitting at the table by the window, scrolling through the internet for further signs of disaster or possible cases. Dean was out getting new tires put on the Impala, picking up supplies. They were on their way to Sioux Falls to see Bobby and to check out a case that seemed to involve a ghost. Sam had been trying to get Bobby on the phone to ask him about it, but was having no luck. It was clear that Sam was concerned about that. There were worried frown lines creasing his forehead and he'd barely touched breakfast.

Sam glanced up at her and pulled a wry smile.

"We just got out of bed, Raeth," he said, and it was also clear that he was having fond memories of the time they had spent there after Dean had left.

"Hours ago," she smiled.

She slid around behind him and leaned down to put an arm around his shoulders, across the front of him in a tight hug. Sam sighed and closed the laptop, leaning back. Raeth bent over further, smiled against the back of his neck and moved warm hands down the soft flannel of his shirt.

"Dean could be back any minute," he protested weakly.

"You can call him."

"And say what?"

Raeth smiled, pushed his hair out of the way with her nose and kissed the tender skin behind his ear. Her lips barely brushed against him.

"Whatever your code phrase is," she said, "the one for 'I need the motel room for a few more hours.' I'm sure you have one."

Sam gave up and laughed, putting his hand over hers and turning in the chair, drawing her down into his lap.

"Pretty much it's just 'I need the room for a few more hours.' Used to be Dean used it more than I did," he told her. He rested his forehead against hers for a moment. "Shouldn't we spend time, you know, helping me learn how to control an angel in possession of my vessel?"

Raeth stroked his hair back from his forehead. "You're not quite recovered from your recent ordeal. I would prefer to wait before attempting your next lesson."

"I thought you said I was all better?" Sam said, frowning, furrowing deep lines in his forehead again.

"Your vessel is fine, completely purged," she reassured him.

"Then what's wrong?" Sam demanded.

"You won't be fighting Lucifer with your vessel. You'll be fighting him for it with… your Essence, your Being…. Your soul."

"And there's still something wrong with my soul?"

"Not wrong." She stopped stroking his hair to run her hand gently down his cheek, cupping his jaw and brushing his cheekbone with her thumb. Sam had such beautiful bone structure…. Raeth sat up straighter and tried to regain some control.

Humanity as an abstract concept was easy to love - as the angels had been commanded to do. Humans individually were dangerous to love. They could be so alternately strong and yet fragile (and to Raeth Sam Winchester seemed the strongest and most fragile that she had ever met.) Humans broke easily and in time they all died…. Yes, the vast majority of their souls went to heaven, to their own private paradise. But more often than not, those paradises didn't include the angels who had once loved them so dearly and still did.

It was safer, easier, to just give them pleasure, release, distraction, when that was what they needed. But that was dangerous too, because it was impossible for an angel to give them that and not be affected. It wasn't …. Natural… for an angel to be contained in a vessel, to be confined in a physical body and when they were…. It became natural to reach out to the humans in their care and let the humans get inside them somehow and then…..

Raeth took a deep breath, fighting down 5,000 year old thoughts of Solomon's son – Samuel! – and the memory of her broken, torn-out heart when he had died…

"Hey," Sam said, gently. He tilted her chin up with his thumb and forefinger. "Something's wrong."

"Not with your vessel," she said, quickly. Her voice was low and rolling, like warm ocean waves. "You're still just tired. Soul weary, if you will. I won't ask you to fight under those conditions."

Sam put his forehead against hers again and closed his eyes. He groped for her hand and laced their fingers together.

"So what did you have in mind?" He asked, finally. He leaned back to look down into her eyes.

"Take your shirt off and lie down on the bed," she answered.

Her voice was still calm and hypnotic, not really seductive but Sam felt as if he was being seduced nevertheless.

"That's abrupt even for an angel, isn't it?" Sam asked, with a puzzled frown.

"You need a back rub, a massage," Raeth answered. As if to confirm this she put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

Sam winced. Yeah. No point arguing with her. His back and shoulders were one huge Gordian knot of tension and frustration.

He shed the t-shirt, reaching over his head and clawing two handfuls of it and pulling it over his head. Raeth helped as much as he needed, which was little. Then she hopped off his lap and led him to the bed. The mattress seemed to be made of poured concrete and the sheets were knitted cactus spines. But Sam had slept on worse.

She urged him onto his belly, but he didn't need much coaxing. Face down was his preferred sleep position anyway. He smooshed a pillow into something relatively comfortable and folded his arms under it. He was ready to sigh with relief when Raeth started taking off his loafers.

"Oh hey wait," he said, "I haven't had a shower since yesterday."

Her eyebrows lifted quizzically. "And?"

"Well, I have no idea how sensitive your angelic nose might be, but I can't promise lavender and roses…."

Raeth laughed a little and it sounded like wind chimes. She finished with his shoes and socks, discarding them on the floor. Then she nudged against his hip and made him move just enough to get his belt unbuckled and slide his jeans off. She stopped there, leaving him in only a threadbare pair of boxers.

"Relax, Sam," she said, "I promise not to be offended. Lie down."

Sam complied, tensing for only a moment when Raeth ran her hands over the considerable length of his torso, seeking soreness, tightened muscles, tension in sinew and bone.

There was more than enough to find.

Soon she settled into a warm deep massage and he relaxed at last.

"It's okay if you fall asleep," she said, working her way down one leg with strong, firm, gentle hands.

God, she has great hands, Sam thought. He was starting to float in contentment, though his thoughts were scattered, flitting from one thing to another without really landing, like a bee searching for nectar. There was so much happening, so much he needed to do…..

"Turn over," Raeth said, softly.

Sam resurfaced, aware that he had dozed off and his thoughts had turned to random dreams. He groaned a little but settled on his back quickly enough, anxious for the return of her hands. He hummed with pleasure when she touched him again, working on his shoulders from the front.

He slitted one eye open and regarded her.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured.

Raeth smiled sardonically. "This is a vessel, Sam."

"I know," he said, quickly, "and it's a lovely vessel. I wasn't talking about that though. I meant your true form."

"The dragon?" She seemed startled.

"Yes," Sam said. He closed his eyes again relishing the relaxation. His body was sinking into even more deeply as he gave his thoughts something relevant and important to consider. "You're powerful and majestic, graceful even though you're gigantic; and your eyes! They're like segments of slice petrified wood-"

He broke off when she laughed again. "I know that isn't romantic, but it's true!" He opened his eyes to look at her.

Raeth sat back a little. "What are you thinking, Sam? Is there a point here or are you just trying to flatter me?"

The way she was looking at him, Sam knew she understood that he wasn't trying to flatter her. She was angel. She didn't respond to flattery.

But Raeth also understood Sam. She knew that ever since Stanford he'd thought like a lawyer, asking questions in a way designed to lead to a specific answer, sometimes beginning in a place that seemed unrelated to what he actually wanted.

He decided to cut to the chase with Raeth.

"You told me Lucifer was a dragon as well," he answered.

"He is," she answered. Then gently continued, "But I also told you that he is not a dragon as I am."

"You don't scare me," Sam said, which seemed unrelated. "I know it's your true form and looking at it could destroy me if it was real. It's all illusion but it's more than that. You should scare me. You're a dragon. I just know that you won't hurt me."

"Are you asking me if Lucifer will hurt you?"

"Will he? Can he?"

"Only if you let him."

Sam fell silent, considering. Raeth moved her hand down his leg, shifted on the bed and began massaging his right foot. Sam almost groaned in pleasure but stayed focused on the issued he'd brought up. Finally he asked,

"So the next time I give you possession, I have to learn to not be hurt by anything you do. I have to learn to not be afraid of a dragon you've said is 100 times your size and is slightly mad from being incarcerated for eons?"

Raethaniel's perfect brows knitted together. "He doesn't have much to gain by actually harming you. But once you've resisted being his pawn, or actually going along with him, he may try other tactics. Lucifer can be cruel. That was always his nature and his long imprisonment has only made that worse. But I agree with you that you still have much to learn before you can willingly accede to my brother, unless you want to surrender completely."

"No, that's not what I want," Sam said, distractedly. She had started on his other foot and his body finally felt relaxed. "If what I see when I am being possessed is an illusion, I should be able to change it, alter it. Would I be able to see Lucifer as his current vessel?"

Raeth gave him that smile, the one that hinted at pride in his thought-process, in his intelligence. Sam felt a small trickle of exhilaration when he saw it. He understood that Raeth was attracted to his physical form – in whatever way an angel could be. But the reality has always been that Raeth seemed most attracted to Sam's Being – including how cunning he could be, how smart, how quickly he could think outside the box and reach a logical conclusion.

"You should be able to see Lucifer as anything want – a mortal man half your size, a child-"

"No I could never hurt a child."

"Even one you knew was evil?"

"Maybe, but it would be harder. I don't want to make it harder. What about something nonhuman? A …. Lizard maybe?"

"If you train hard enough, practice. You're strong, Sam. I don't think you realize how much."

She ran her fingers up the insides of both legs, a mischievous smile tugging the corners of her mouth. Sam felt another tingle and his body began to tense in new and pleasant ways.

"Do you want to talk all afternoon; or do you want to continue healing so you can practice turning me into a lizard."

Sam laughed a bit. "I'll make you a cute lizard, I promise. A gecko maybe."

"Like the one in the commercials that has an Australian accent?"

"I thought it was British."

Raeth laughed and leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose.

Then her body followed her hands until she straddled him, hovering over the only part of him that was still covered by any kind of clothing. She braced her hands on bed on either side of him and waited. Sam's senses throbbed with the awareness of her conflicting emotions – the angel who was sworn only to protect him and the woman inside this vessel who cared for him deeply.

Then she leaned down and laid the lightest of kisses on his belly. It tickled and he laughed a little. She frowned playfully and sat back. Her fingertips came to rest on the waistband of his boxers, slipping just under the edge and her eyebrows went up in question.

"What do you think?" She asked, wondering if he was rested enough, if his wayward thoughts were under control again.

Sam sat up and reached for the hem of her sweater, gasping it in both hands. He leaned forward to kiss her and this time there was nothing of tickling or teasing in it. This time he was nearly stunned silent because she let him taste the angel inside the vessel. The essence of her came through as his lips opened to devour hers, a white-hot sun that pulsed strong with no threat of ever burning out. Sam gasped and inhaled power.

When she finally pulled back a little, Sam eagerly pulled her sweater over her head saying,

"I think you're overdressed…."

(0)


	110. The Power of Angels

Everything, Sam had come to realize, was a lesson now in the power of angels; every conversation, every moment in each other's presence, even making love.

He knew it when he looked into her eyes and saw only the dragon looking back – all the eons of mortal life, all the eons before that. Raethaniel had an understanding of things that Sam could never completely comprehend; no matter how brilliant he was, no matter how much he tried or how long Raeth stayed in her current vessel with its lovely deep brown mortal eyes.

Raethaniel remembered.

Sam saw the same thing sometimes in Castiel's eyes – something ancient. Castiel's power was always tinged with sadness, something that was missing from Raethaniel's experience. Perhaps eons guarding a gate had shielded her from the pain that Castiel had endured.

There was no pain or sorrow now; nor was there any hint of the dragon in her eyes at the moment. Sam felt its presence nevertheless. Her mouth was demanding, pressed against his, open, wet. Light glowed in the light Sam felt Raethaniel's quintessence. Demanding. Beautiful.

Terrifying.

It surrounded him and pressed in on him until he yielded.

He was being invaded, though not against his will. Her Essence, her Being was asking to be let in, not to take possession of him but to join with him in a way he didn't understand. It was exhilarating and it left him unable to breathe as Raeth pushed him back – back – into the pillows.

The world around Sam faded into swirls of black and white and grey and for a moment he felt as if he was skating on liquid air, falling, falling….

"Let me in, Sam," she breathed.

"Do whatever you want," he answered.

It seemed as if hands seized him everywhere. He was aware of hands devouring him, but there was also something grasping his hips, tangling in his hair. Wherever he wanted to be touched, she touched. Sam was aware that he still couldn't actually see her, that all of this had become sensation. He would reach and touch air only to have the shape of her breast fill his hand. He would search with his leg, pushing against nothing and a half-breath later he was settled between warm thighs, taut with ready energy.

What he could see was the naked shape of her, shimmering blue, neither her vessel nor her true form, in spite of the hot, mortal flesh he could feel. He gasped as she bit down on his neck and suckled the sensitive skin there. He writhed, twisting around to switch their positions. Stars spun for a moment and he lost his orientation. Time and space had no meaning.

"Raeth…."

Her arms went around him and he felt a surge of raw, hot power everywhere they touched. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders. With the other hand he lifted her hips up to meet him, tight against him. Raeth arched and Sam caught a glimpse of her smooth, perfect body.

Then they seemed to be falling. Sam knew he was still moving, driving into her. His body was enveloped in her and in a consuming white light that was something no mortal was meant to comprehend. There was something here that surrounded him and pressed in on him and he should have been terrified but he knew only peace. Raeth would protect him. Raeth had brought him here –

To a place no mere human should have been able to survive, a place of angel passion and power. She wrung tears and sweat and cries of praise from him, offering him pleasure as he had never known.

Still falling they plummeted through darkness and stars – past endless worlds, layers of darkness and light. Sam saw stars burst into existence behind his closed eyelids and then flicker and die in moments. Still they fell, towards something blue-green and beautiful, a globe feathered in white and Sam realized it was Earth. They fell through clouds and sky, ecstasy pouring from him as he closed his eyes to savor it, praying he would survive it.

It was something sacred, something divine. It seemed to Sam that they literally crashed back to Earth, into the tiny, shabby motel room they had made holy. The shock of their impact swept over them and over the room. Once more Raeth was above him, pressing him down into the mattress. She was upright, arched back, head thrown back. Her hair was streaming out behind her like the tail of a comet. Her mouth was open and her face was tight-clenched in the delicious expression of agony/ecstasy that overtook her when the moment would strike. Blue light danced over her body like lightning, coruscating and brilliant until the blue lines merged, flared and then faded into the shape of her Earthly vessel.

Sam's ears rang and his vision blurred. Raeth collapsed against him and he caught a glimpse of a satisfied smile on her lovely face. He reached up to welcome her into his arms, feeling them close around her in an exhausted embrace. Then his eyes closed and knew no more…


	111. Stronger Than He Knew

Sam woke slowly. His first awareness was of bliss, pure and serene. Comfort and warmth surrounded him. Sunlight warmed the side of his face. He could see red light through his closed eyelids. A hand was rubbing his back in small, slow arcs.

He opened his eyes and was confused at first. He saw stars and a vast, rolling expanse that looked like a series of frozen fireworks, explosions held in suspension. Then he vision swam away, out of reach. It fell deeper into his consciousness. For a brief moment he thought he understood something and then even that was stripped away.

He was human, mortal. Some things would always be beyond his understanding.

Awareness continued to expand. He was lying on his side on the rock hard mattress, covered by scratchy sheets and the thin blanket. Someone, probably Raeth was sitting behind him. He turned over with a groan and opened his eyes to slits. Her too-human eyes were gazing back at him in frank admiration.

"Raeth." His voice was as scratchy as the sheets. His throat felt raw and sore. He remembered shouting and wondered why someone hadn't called the front desk to complain about the noise….

Unless he hadn't been in the room. He glanced up at the ceiling and half expected to find a gaping hole from when they had plummeted back to Earth. But the roof was whole and the room appeared to be as well. It was still shabby and dated, decorated in shades of avocado and gold. The furniture was still faded walnut veneer and scuffed gilt.

After what had just happened, Sam had expected the room to look as if it had been consecrated by something holy. That's certainly how he felt.

Though he also felt as if he had been hit by a train.

Raeth smiled at him and held out a bottle of unsweetened iced tea. Sam took it gratefully. His hand was shaking. He took a small sip and then realized he was thirsty. So he tipped the bottle up and drained it without stopping.

"Thanks," he said, handing it back.

Raeth twisted her wrist in a graceful swirl and the empty bottle disappeared.

"More?"

"Not," he paused and cleared his throat, "not now."

"How are you feeling?"

Sam considered that. Warm, safe. Clean…. He inhaled and caught the scent of motel soap. His hair was damp.

"I put you in the shower and cleaned you up, Raeth explained. Her voice was low and soft, as if she was speaking to a skittish horse. "I hope that was all right. You were so exhausted you didn't wake."

Sam blinked at her. He doubted that Dean could hold him up in the shower - get him into a bathtub, probably, but not hold him up in a shower when he was dead asleep.

Raeth touched the tips of two fingers to his cheek and gently stroked his skin.

"What a wonder you are," she breathed.

"Why?" Sam's voice was still raspy but the tea had helped.

"I didn't expect you to survive that," she told him, fluffing the wet hair clinging to his forehead.

Sam choked, coughed and said, "What?"

"Not many mortals would," she went on, "I knew Michael wouldn't let you die but there was no need for divine intervention at all."

"That was a test then?"

"In a way. You can hold your own with angels, Sam. There is no doubt about that. I suspect the demon blood gives you some of that strength."

Anger tightened in the pit of his stomach. Sam jerked away from her touch, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He immediately regretted the action because his shaking legs wouldn't hold him. He swayed for a moment, tried to take a determined step and then surrendered. He sat back on the bed with a defeated sigh.

"That isn't a criticism, Sam, or a condemnation. In its essence demon blood is only a thing of power. It has been inside of you since you were an infant. Yet you were never an evil or dangerous child. There is nothing about it that makes you 'dark' in any way. Your basic nature won't allow that. But it does make you strong."

Sam unclenched his jaw with effort. He forced the tension out of his body. Raeth wasn't trying to upset him or condemn him. She was trying to help him.

"Can I use it against Lucifer?" He asked.

"Possibly. Probably," she replied. "I would prefer that you start seeing it as a strength rather than a weakness."

"It's an addiction, not a strength," he said gruffly.

"You weren't…. high just now," Raeth said, as gently as she could. "That was just you. You are strong, Sam and you have to believe that if you are going to attempt to control an archangel. It's not training or practice or experience. You have to believe in yourself. You have to believe you can do it. The test I just gave you proves, at least to me, that you can do anything. I've always known your soul was strong

Sam ran both hands through his hair to smooth it down and then just sat clutching his skull for a moment, elbows on his knees, eyes closed.

It was easier to think the worst of himself. It always had been. For so many years he had felt like an afterthought in his family, an inconvenience. He'd been so often left alone while Dean and his father went hunting. He'd spent so much time wondering what he would do if they never came back….

"Sam," she went on, drawing his name out like a prayer. Abruptly Sam remembered her voice saying his name, calling to him, as if it was coming from the cosmos itself. "There is nothing wrong with you. There never has been. You are exactly as you should be."

It comforted him, perhaps only because he wanted to be comforted at the moment. He was exhausted still. But he was also still feeling warm and safe….. Content. Wanted. Even…. Loved?

He looked up again finally and said, "Were we…. Falling?"

She smiled wryly. "Flying actually. Did you like it?"

Sam considered it for only a few seconds. He leaned back to grasp her wrist and pull her towards him.

"Maybe in a little while," he said, when his lips were close enough to hers to kiss. "I'm still a little tired. How long did I sleep?"

"A few hours. Dean came back, checked on you and then left again. I'm not sure where he is."

"Is there a roadhouse around here?"

"I think so."

"Then that's where he is."

"Do you want to go find him? I can take you to him."

"No," he shook his head, rested his forehead against hers again. "I'm still wiped out. Will you stay with me while I sleep again? I know you've wanted to go search for Castiel and I appreciate that you've stayed with me. We're just going on a simple ghost hunt, nothing we can't handle. But I'd really love it if you would stay a while longer."

"Of course," she said.

Sam lay down again. He closed his eyes so he missed the tender, passionate look Raeth gave him. She wouldn't have allowed him to see it anyway. There was too much at risk. Sam was so much more than he appeared to be.

It had been Sam who had drawn their worlds together during their lovemaking. His kisses, not hers, had woven their essence into one and allowed her to take them into another dimension.

He was so much stronger than he knew. If only she could get him to believe that.

As for herself, Raeth knew she was traveling down a very slippery slope. Sam Winchester was becoming her entire world, the reason for her existence. Sam was becoming her only god. She would do whatever he asked her to do…

(0)


	112. Heaven

Darkside of the Moon from the POV of the angels. Castiel has been looking for God. Raeth has been looking for Castiel.

(0)

Raeth's search for Castiel took her from the bottom of the Grand Canyon to the top of Mt. Everest and eventually to a monastery in Tibet. He was sitting on a stone bench contemplating a trickling stream in a small garden.

"There you are," she said with a sign, plopping down beside him. "You are a very difficult angel to track."

"I have been unable to find our Father," Castiel replied. "But I have not given up looking for him."

"Have you tried homeless shelters and soup kitchens?" Raeth asked, not unsympathetically.

"That might take some time," Castiel pointed out.

Raeth smiled at him and put her hand on his. But anything she was going to say was abruptly stopped when her connection to Sam ignited in shock and then pain. She leapt to her feet, crying out. In the next second she felt the rending of Sam's soul from his body, sharp as shattered glass.

Sam, for all intents and purposes, was dead.

"Sam!"

She searched for him frantically, but his body was still marked by the sigils that hid him even from his guardian.

Castiel stood as well, shaking. If Sam was dead then Dean….

Raethaniel threw back her head and screamed. The monastery shook. The surrounding hillsides trembled. Terrified birds and wildlife erupted from the trees and meadows, fleeing. It was not an Earthly utterance.

With the sound echoing into the distance, Castiel felt Dean's soul rip away from his body. He was still staggering from the blow when Raethaniel vanished. She shot into the air and somewhere between earth and sky she changed to her true form and became invisible to mortal eyes.

Castiel gathered himself and took to the skies in her wake. Raethaniel was fast but he was faster. He knew where she was going so he dove through overlapping dimensions and overtook her. He flew in front of her and forced her to turn, weaving back and forth so that she had to do the same, until she finally came to halt, back-winging to hover with Castiel blocking her path.

Raeth gave a roar of frustration and shot a blast of fire at Castiel, more for show than anything else. Castiel was currently in his true form – a shifting man-shape of pure flame, a storm of fire remaking itself over and over. He was made of the light of hundred thousand suns. The tendrils of his essence drifted away in thin strips but Castiel remained whole, blazing in shades of gold and orange, His wings – high and broad – beat steadily, dripping flame as they did. Only his eyes were different. Those were blue-white lightning.

She spoke to him in Enochian, her voice low and threatening, even though she knew there was little hope that she could prevail against a Seraph of the Seventh Heaven, even one that was cute off.

"Let me go, Castiel."

"I can't and you know that," he answered bluntly. "You're trying to go to Heaven."

"Yes!" It was desperate wail. "Sam is there now! He isn't protected by your sigils. Zechariah will find him!"

"Raethaniel, think!" Castiel snapped. Her reaction was neither rational nor reasonable. It was alarming. He had never known her to be like this. "Zechariah doesn't even know they are dead. He's not connected to them the way we are. He's probably still on Earth trying to find them. Nothing will alert him that something is wrong faster than you trying to force your way into the Seventh Heaven trying to find Sam!"

Her dragon eyes were still narrowed and her head was low, drawn back on her neck as if she was about to strike. But there was no longer madness burning in their amber depths. She stared back at Castiel, her great dragon form trembling with warring urges.

Castiel felt a surge of impatience. Dean was dead and in danger and there were a million other things he needed to be doing…..

"What do you want me to do?" She asked, voice shaking.

"We have to find their mortal forms and protect them. We need to contact them in Heaven."

"How do you suggest we do that?" Raeth demanded, anger flaring again, "If neither of us can go to Heaven and they have sigils hiding them from us?"

"The car isn't hidden," Castiel said.

Raethaniel's head lifted in surprise.

"Dean is never far from the car and Sam is never far from Dean. I created a spell, a sigil and put it inside the car. Only I can find it."

"Then where are they?"

"Come with me," Castiel said and then dove.

Raethaniel didn't hesitate. Castiel was taking her to Sam, even if it was only his mortal remains. She sped after him through the skies – two avenging angels racing the clouds and the stars…..

(0)

They found the Impala at a no-star motel typical of the ones Sam and Dean inhabited. There was a police cruiser in the parking lot with two cops who were interviewing several people – an older woman smoking a cigarette while wearing a shabby red bathrobe, a young man with long hair and headband wearing faded jeans and a white tank top who looked as if he had stayed till the bar closed, a young couple who looked mostly scared and were holding hands tightly.

Peering from around the corner, Castiel remarked,

"Whatever happened to them, they didn't go down quietly."

"Not a hunt then," Raethaniel said. They had assumed their earthly vessels one again, but Raethaniel's eyes were still 'off' – the banded ambers of highly polished petrified wood, beautiful but unnerving.

The angels gambled that Sam and Dean were in the room directly in front of the Impala and won the bet. Raeth gasped and staggered a step back.

Sam and Dean had indeed not gone down easily.

Castiel reached for her arm and wrapped his hand around it, as much to steady himself as Raethaniel.

"They aren't here," he told her quietly. "Those are just vessels. We'll protect them as best we can, keep anyone from finding them."

"The police outside?" Raeth's voice was low, deadly.

Castiel put an invisible shield up over the door. "They won't come here," he said. "Now we have to find a way to contact Sam and Dean. They'll be working their way through their happiest memories, trying to decide on a paradise. Dean won't be in Heaven without the car. I'm going to try the radio waves. What about Sam?"

"He won't have the car. He thinks of that as Dean's. I'm not sure where he'll be to be honest. His idea of Heaven could be anything. College perhaps? He might try to find Jessica."

"He's on the internet a lot. Could you reach him that way?"

"What about by phone? He might have or be near one."

"Then try it that way," Castiel advised. "Not by actual phone, but you understand what I mean?"

"Yes," Raethaniel nodded. It would be harder for her. She did not have the power of a Seraph.

"He may not understand that he is dead. Try not to scare him."

"All right." Raeth turned away from the horror that was the bed on which Sam had been sleeping. He was now lying, pale and cold, in a pool of his own blood.

She closed her eyes and sought the virtual phone line that would connect her to him…..

(0)

Sam knew that he dreamed. Most often his dreams were lucid, which was good because most often his dreams were also nightmares and he could wake himself up if needed. This was a good one, even though it was odd and he had no idea why he would suddenly conjure the memory of his first taste of a real Thanksgiving and a normal family life.

Still it was pleasant. The fact that he didn't seem to be able to wake himself up was perplexing, but not enough to really concern him at the moment. He and Dean had finished a more than one six pack in the rickety motel room and he was probably just passed out drunk. Since there was no doubt a serious hangover waiting for him Sam had no motivation to wake up.

He was thinking about asking for more gravy when the phone in the kitchen rang. He frowned since he didn't remember that happening before but dreams were makeshift things, so….

It became odder when no one in the family moved to answer it. It kept right on ringing and finally Sam couldn't stand it anymore. He stood up and no one questioned it. So we went to the kitchen were an old phone with a massively long cord hung on the wall. Hesitantly, he picked up the heavy receiver, brought it to his mouth and ear and said,

"Hello?"

There was a crackling of static, a high pitched whine and a buzzing noise. Then he heard a voice, "…..am? ….. Sam! Can …. 'ear…. Me?"

"Raeth?" Sam guessed.

"Yes! Sam…. Listen…. Carefully."

"Why are you calling me? Can't you just walk into my dreams?"

"Yes, but this….. different. Where are you?"

"In a house, at dinner with some people."

"Stay there. Castiel….. send Dean …. You….."

"Dean?"

"Yes," there was a huge burst of static and then the line cleared up a bit. "Stay there until Dean arrives. Do everything he tells you. It's important…. Do… Understand?"

Since dreams weren't supposed to make sense and this seemed important to Raethaniel, Sam shrugged and said, "Sure. Okay. Are you coming?"

"No, I …. N't…. Just stay where you …."

The line went completely dead at that point. Sam stared at the receiver for a moment and then put it back in the cradle on the wall. For the first time since the dream had started he felt more than a trickle of concern. But he had promised Raeth he would stay here and the food seemed never ending and tasted sooooo good.

He went back to the table, where no one seemed to notice he had been gone, sat down and politely asked someone to pass the gravy.

(0)


	113. Allies in Heaven

While Castiel stood in front of the ancient TV and spoke to Sam and Dean, Raethaniel sent a prayer to Heaven on a spear thread directed at Lamechiel. She was ridiculously relieved to hear that Sam and Dean were together, and that Castiel could still reach them. But Castiel had ordered her to stay focused on the task – and the task at the moment was getting the boys safely to Joshua.

And to that end, she needed a resource in Heaven….

"Lamechiel, I need your help," she whispered aloud.

There was only a moment's pause. She knew that Mecca was currently on Earth working to stop the side effects of the Apocalypse. She didn't call him twice. Mecca would come if he could.

And he did. The air stirred with the sound of wings snapping shut and Lamechiel appeared in the faded motel room.

He was standing so that he faced the blood soaked beds. A startled Enochian curse burst from him.

"You might have warned me," he berated Raeth when he was finished cursing.

"My apologies," Raeth lowered her head.

"They're in Heaven?" He surmised.

"Yes, Castiel is speaking with them now. We're trying to send them to find Joshua."

"Joshua?"

"We're trying to find our Father, Mecca," Raeth explained. "At least, Castiel is. I would prefer that Sam and Dean were returned to Earth as quickly as possible. But if Zechariah finds them first, he'll make that impossible. He'll torment them until they say yes. Joshua can protect them and give us answers about our Father, perhaps even let them talk to Him."

Lamechiel looked doubtful. He rubbed a hand against his forehead, frowning.

"I am not sure I agree that Joshua has any connection to our Father, but he is strong enough to protect Sam and Dean. What do you want from me in the, Raethaniel? I can no more access the Seventh Heaven than you can."

"But you still have connections all the way up the ranks," Raeth said.

Slowly, Mecca acknowledged that with a nod.

"And you trust those connections? Completely?"

With that question Mecca guessed what she wanted. "You want me to get a message to Joshua, that Sam and Dean are in Heaven and have need of his assistance."

"Can you?" Raeth asked, afraid to be hopeful. "Safely and with no threat of danger to Sam and Dean?"

"I believe I can," Mecca replied, "There are angels I trust as surely as I trust you."

"Then will you help me, my brother?"

"You'll have to tell me their names sometime, so I can express my gratitude for their help," Raeth said, sincerely.

"You are not the only angel trying to protect Sam and Dean Winchester," Mecca told her, "though there are not many of us."

"I was ordered to watch over Sam."

A small wry smile played at the corners of Lamechiel's mouth.

"Is that the only reason?" He asked.

"They are good men," Raeth said defensively.

Castiel ended his conversation with the Winchesters and turned, nodding his head in greeting.

"Lamechiel," he said.

Mecca nodded back. He had no quarrel with Castiel and, overall, understood the Seraph's actions. The distance between them was respect and long tradition. Whatever Castiel had done, he was still an angel of the Seventh Heaven.

"Are they going to find Joshua?" Raeth asked, mildly disappointed that she had not gotten to speak with Sam again.

"They are going to try," Castiel informed them.

"Then I should attempt to get a message to him as soon as possible," Mecca said.

Raeth took two steps towards Mecca, stood up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

Lamechiel gave her a smile that said it was no problem and then vanished.

"We still have allies in Heaven, "Castiel said, as if the thought confounded and confused him.

"We do," she agreed, "perhaps I should go with Lamechiel and try to get to Sam and Dean myself."

Castiel shook his head. "You are easier to track than Sam and Dean are. Mark what I say Raethaniel, Zechariah may be looking for them, but he has angels watching for you. You have a dragon's temper when it comes to Sam and Zechariah is counting on that. I think it is best if you disappoint him."

There was a flash of that dragon temper in her eyes but it was gone quickly. Like Lamechiel she still considered Castiel to be her superior. She took his words not just as good advice but orders.

"Should we ….," her voice faltered and she gestured to the bodies on the beds, "Clean them up a little?"

"We should wait to see when Heaven sends them back. They might prevent any of this from happening and wipe their memories. They've done it before."

"We should try to find whoever did this, before they do," Raeth said.

Surprised, Castiel looked up. "Why?"

She made another gesture with her hand, this one looking helpless. "Because if they come back with their memories intact, they know who did this. I can probably talk Sam down from seeking them out. But Dean won't rest until he finds them; and when he finds them there will be Hell to pay. Do you want that for him? How many cold-blooded murders do you want on his soul?"

"There are already too many," Castiel answered, "But their reactions will depend on several things. If Sam witnessed Dean being murdered, there might be very little you can do to prevent him from seeking revenge. Sam is a gentle man but his anger is like a sudden storm at sea – wild and unpredictable. If Dean witnessed Sam being murdered first there will be doubt to his reaction and there won't be anything I can do to stop him. The worst case will be if they died at the same time. Then they'll have each other's backs and be in lockstep. All of Heaven won't be able to stop one from avenging the other."

"Sam was attacked by fellow hunters once. I suspect that is what happened here. I turned those men away, changed their memories. Perhaps I should have sent a stronger message. Perhaps we should travel back in time to see who did this and either stop them or go after them."

"No," Castiel said, quickly. "Time travel will weaken us and this is no time for either of us to be weak. We should wait here until Sam and Dean wake up and protect their physical forms. If demons hear of this they'll come for Sam's vessel, if not Dean's as well. We can't allow that to happen."

Raethaniel nodded in agreement. Her angel blade slipped into her palm as she went to the window. She opened the curtain a crack to watch the parking lot and prepared to guard Sam for as long as this took.

(0)


	114. Vengeance of an Angel

Coming back from the dead was a lot like waking up from a very vivid nightmare. It was an odd thought to go through his head but it did nonetheless. Shocked, panting, heart pounding, wide-eyed, Sam sat in his blood soaked clothes on his blood soaked bed and tried to focus.

He couldn't convince himself it had been a nightmare – not with the evidence to the contrary all around him, evidence that included Dean waking up a heartbeat after him.

"You alright?" Sam asked, more to hear himself speak than because he didn't know the answer.

"Define alright?" Dean growled sourly. He recovered more quickly than Sam, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed and standing up, reaching for his cell phone and dialing. As Dean turned away Sam could see the blood stained exit wounds in his shirt.

Momentarily puzzled, Sam watched him and then realized who Dean was calling. He stood up and said, "Raeth," not to call her but to give his whirling thoughts a nexus on which to rest.

Sam had not expected her to just materialize in front of him as if conjured from thin air. She had not been able to find him that way in a long time. He jumped like a startled rabbit, something he had not done ever in his life. He uttered a curse startling in its foulness, took two strides forwards and engulfed her in a desperate hug. Her arms went around his waist and held on tight.

"It's alright. I'm here."

"How did you find me?" His voice was wrecked, raw.

"Castiel," she answered, voice hardly audible against his chest. "He found a way to track the car."

Something like a sob of relief broke from Sam. He had no control over the way his heart was pounding. Too late he realized that he was still covered in fresh blood and he had gotten it all over Raeth. Still, it was with reluctance that he pushed her back. She was smeared with blood and didn't seem to care.

As she was speaking, Castiel appeared in the room. Dean had just finished dialing and the phone was ringing as he turned around.

"Dean," Castiel said, sounding weak with relief.

Dean nodded gruffly and stuck the phone back in his pocket.

"Where were you?"

"In the parking lot," Castiel replied, "talking to the police, trying to find out who did this; or at least get a description."

"We know who did this," Dean growled. Then he cast a sharp look at the angel. "You tagged my car?"

"I thought we might need a way to find you in an emergency," Castiel replied, "No one else could use the sigil. I made it myself."

"Yourself?" Dean challenged.

"Castiel is more powerful than you can imagine, Dean," Raeth said, quietly.

Dean looked over at her. The blood smears had disappeared from her face and clothes. She was barely ruffled. Sam still had a hand on her shoulder as if she was all that was holding him up. He glared briefly at Sam, earning him another puzzled look from his brother.

"I can remove it," Castiel offered.

Dean just closed his eyes and shook his head. One more magical sigil on his car wasn't actually a big deal at the moment.

"Sam," Castiel said, "Who did this to you?"

Sam was still looking at Raeth, eyes narrowed now. He remembered her reaction to the last hunters who had tried to harm him. Dean answered before Sam could decide if he wanted to tell them or not.

"Couple of hunters named Roy and Walt. Why?"

"Do you know where they are?" Raeth asked, ignoring Dean to keep her eyes on Sam.

Slowly, Sam said, "They use a roadhouse in Shindler as a base of operations. Duke and Wendy's."

"What do they look like?" Castiel asked.

"They look like a couple of douchebags who are about to get their jewels fed to them by the Winchesters," Dean snapped. "What's this about, Cas?"

"Raethaniel has a plan," Castiel said, "One that I suspect is going to be slightly more effective in discouraging other hunters from coming after you than what you just outlined."

"I don't know," Dean said, sarcastically, "I think it would be pretty attention grabbing."

"Dean," Sam interrupted, knowing that his brother was already working up a full head of steam over the situation. "Let's just hear them out." He then described Roy and Walt as best he could, since they were both pretty average looking guys. Castiel stared intently at Sam as he spoke, giving Sam the impression that he was not only listening but somehow seeing inside Sam's mind. It was unnerving. "… and they drive a late 80s model mustard gold lifted Chevy pickup with a white hood. What are you going to do?" He asked when he was done.

Castiel didn't reply at all. He simple disappeared with a sound like sheets snapping in a strong wind.

"Oh that's just great," Dean grouched, "I thought you said this was your plan."

"It is," Raethaniel confirmed. "Castiel is just checking to see if they are at this roadhouse."

Before anyone could say anything else, Castiel returned. He nodded once to Raeth.

"They are there."

"Very well," she said.

"Raeth!" Sam said, frustration evident in the edge in his voice.

"I'm going there to give them a taste of Heaven's wrath," she said, and then held up a hand to stop the protest she saw forming in Sam's expression. "Just a taste. I'm taking you with me. I want you to talk to them, wearing those clothes…."

"And still covered in my own blood," Sam finished grimly.

He shared a look with Dean. There was so much they still had to tell the angels about their time in Heaven, and it wasn't going to go down well. But he desperately wanted to get cleaned up and he desperately wanted to get other hunters to stop coming after them, so…..

"Okay," he said, spreading his hands helplessly. "Let's go. But, Raeth, please don't kill anyone."

As felt himself getting caught up in the Jet stream that was an angel taking flight he heard Dean saying, "Now wait a minute!"

But it was too late. She swept him along with her and landed him, breathless, in the parking lot of Duke and Wendy's Roadhouse and Grill. Like all hunter hangouts it was unwelcoming, painted a ghastly green, with a dirt parking lot. The beat up gold Chevy was parked by the door.

"Close your eyes and cover your ears," Raeth instructed.

Sam started to speak and then saw how she was looking at him. Her eyes were shattered planets, trailing pieces of a broken galaxy in their wake. Her eyes were power and pain, fire and destruction. Sam swallowed and nodded, turning away as he complied.

A sound like wailing horns filled the air and the clouds roiled into a single pulsating darkness. The wind threatened to tear him apart. Then he felt something cover him and knew that he was under an angel's wing. Even there, crouched, protected, eyes tight shut and hard clamped over his ears, Sam could hear the sound of glass shattering, metal screeching and thunder rolling.

Then it stopped. Sam slowly straightened up and turned around, dropping his hands and opening his eyes.

There wasn't a piece of glass anywhere that was in one piece. The wind was dying and Sam could hear the cries and groans from within the roadhouse.

"Let's go," Raeth said.

Sam's legs were shaking but he moved forward. She was at his side until the moment he walked through the splintered front door. He arrived inside the broken roadhouse alone.

He managed to hide his surprise, catching himself before looking around for her. Of course she would choose to be invisible at first. She was sworn to help him. But walking in with an angel at his side would have ruined the effect.

But she was there. He could feel her.

The occupants of the bar stopped as if frozen, some still in the act of rising off the glass strewn floor. Sam, alone, bloody, pale and still shaking, brought a roomful of seasoned hunters to a halt just with his presence.

"Hi," he breathed out. "Everyone okay?... Yeah? Good. Heaven is pissed but apparently not in a deadly mood about it. Oh, hey Walt. Roy."

"Not possible," Roy choked out.

"There's a whole lot I didn't think was possible and, you know, I'm a hunter, so, that's saying a lot. Look, Dean and I have gotten caught up in something that's way bigger than he and I. It's way bigger than any of you. So, it would be good if you'd just all back off and spread the word about it."

Roy had been in the act of rising when Sam had walked in. Now he finished, getting up in slow motion. As he did he lifted a fireplace poker from the debris on the floor. Sam knew well enough that any decent hunter roadhouse would make sure their fireplace tools were made of iron. Roy's entire posture radiated menace as he walked towards Sam.

"You… are…. Dead," he shouted.

He raised the poker like a bat and swung it at Sam. Sam had only an instant to decide whether to duck or block the blow….

And in that instant he felt the power of the angel watching over him coalesce into something diamond hard and sharp as a blade.

Three inches from Sam's head the poker hit something no one could see. The sound of metal on metal rang in the air. Roy's potential weapon glanced off but he kept hold of it, staggering back. He stared at it a moment, perplexed and then his face turned red with anger. He took a step forward to try another blow and this time was stopped in his tracks as the poker hit something once again.

Raethaniel appeared. Her blade was held low and in the center ring, blocking the poker. The shadow of her wings darkened the walls and rose onto the ceiling. Roy gaped at her in horrified astonishment. Walt fell trying to step backwards, landing in glass and slicing open his hands. The other occupants of the bar either tried to stagger away or stood staring in shock. The couple behind the bar – presumably Duke and Wendy – clung to each other and gaped.

Then the poker began to sizzle and glow like molten metal. Roy screamed and tried to drop it but he couldn't let go of it. He poker began to waver as it melted. Sam could smell burning flesh.

"Raeth stop!" Sam cried.

He had known there would be times when his angel would not be controlled, only unleashed…. And he had asked her not to kill.

Roy's screaming grew more intense. Walt shot up from the floor and started towards his partner. But a grizzled old hunter who had seen too many things pulled him back, shaking his head in warning.

"Raeth!" Sam said again, pleading this time. "Don't do this. Not for me."

Abruptly Raeth stood up, disengaging her blade. Roy was able to drop what remained of the poker (which was little but a misshapen lump of metal.) He fell to his knees, holding his burned hand and weeping.

Raeth's eyes swept the room like fire. "I am Raethaniel, an angel of the Lord. Understand this," she said. There was a deeper timbre to her voice as if it came from the bottom of a deep well. "If I have to burn every hunter safe house from here to eternity to keep the Winchesters safe, I will do it. If I have to permanently maim every hunter in existence to keep the Winchesters safe, I will do it. Sam and Dean Winchester live and they will continue to live so long as Heaven needs them. Have I made myself clear?"

Astonishingly there were still those in the room who were staring at Sam with unconcealed hate. But it was all tempered now by fear. A few heads nodded.

Raeth turned to Sam.

"I'll take you back now," she said.

"Raeth, wait," Sam reached out and took her arm. That he was unafraid to do so made a lasting impression on the assembled hunters. "Duke and Wendy, they're good people. They don't deserve this. Don't leave their place like this. Please?"

Raeth looked back at the couple huddled behind the bar.

"Did you have anything to do with sending these men to find Sam and Dean? I will know if lie to me."

Duke sputtered into his beard, something that sounded like 'no'. Wendy simply shook her head, wide-eyed.

Reluctantly, Raethaniel said, "Very well."

In the next instant the roadhouse was restored to its former shabby glory. There wasn't a trace of damage. Stunned, the couple managed to nod at the angel, mouthing thanks.

Light and power enveloped Sam then as he was carried back to the Econo-King Motel and the devastating news they still had to share with the angels.

(0)


	115. Shattered Dreams

Soundtrack: Shattered Dreams.

Dean was pacing like a caged tiger when Sam and Raeth reappeared in the room. He stopped abruptly, expression like a storm cloud.

"What happened?" He demanded.

"They won't bother us anymore," Sam replied, mouth tight.

Dean's jaw rippled. "How'd you leave them?"

"Burned and bloody," Sam told him. There was a pause full of conflict as they brothers faced off across the room. Then Sam said, "Look, I know you're pissed because you didn't get to come along and see the carnage. But it's over. No one is coming after us now." Here he glanced at Raethaniel. "She's really scary when she's mad. You would have loved it. We don't have any friends left in the hunter community but we probably already didn't. At least we still have a bunch of angels on our side. So that's good to know."

Dean shook his head, scratched at the blood drying on his face and said, "I'm going to get a shower."

He stalked off and slammed the bathroom door. Sam exhaled heavily and ran his fingers through both sides of his hair, grimacing when he found most of it stuck together by blood.

"Of course he gets the first shower," he groused.

"The rooms on either side of us are empty," Raeth said, "You can use one of those and I'll clean it up."

Sam blinked at her. "I thought you said you only had a certain number of miracles that you could do."

"I never said it was small number," she answered softly. "Get your things."

Sam grabbed his entire bag and nodded. A moment later he was in the room next door just as shabby but set up in opposition to his own. He checked to make sure the door was locked and then went to the tiny bathroom.

He stole a trash bag out of the container and put his ruined shirts into it. His jeans were covered in blood but could probably be washed. They were one of the few pairs he owned that fit him and were comfortable. Maybe Raeth would be willing to use another miracle to get all the blood out for him.

Like all showers in all cheap motels (and really, even in the expensive ones), it was impossible for Sam to get under it. The shower head landed somewhere near his chin. He bent over and let the hot water sluice away the tension and blood. He closed his eyes so that he didn't have to watch the bright red water running down the drain. It wasn't the first time he'd washed himself clean of blood. It was just the first time that all of it had been his.

He turned the hot water to full, grateful for the water pressure pummeling him. Apparently no one in the motel was showering at the same time (except for Dean.) He bent over further, put a hand on the tile wall to steady himself and let the heat and water pound on his shoulders. The tiny room filled with billowing steam.

He felt so cold, like he was never going to be warm again. His restless mind kept replaying the last few hours of his life; and death. He shut it down, hard. Clamping his teeth shut against the chill he carefully stood up. Over the years, he'd banged his head on too many showerheads not to be cautious. Running on automatic, he found the little bar of soap and a rough washcloth and showered without thinking about it. Since the room was too steamy now to see anything, he shaved by touch and memory and knew he wasn't doing a very good job. Lastly he emptied the miniscule shampoo bottle into his hand and lathered his hair, bending over backwards to rinse it out.

Reluctantly he turned off the water and got out, reaching for the towel. Moving like a robot, he got dressed, shoved his dirty clothes into his duffel and then sat down on the bed. He found himself staring at his own hands as if he had never seen them, turning them over in confusion.

Then the shaking started again and he leaned over, put his face down in his hands and ground his teeth together. Tears burned his eyes, leaked out against his will to drip slowly onto his palms.

All of this was hard enough. Everything he knew was laid in front of him was hard. But it would have been a little easier without the memory of Heaven. A place where he could choose his own happiness and it was now denied to him forever…..

And if he had to be tortured with the memory of Heaven, why couldn't he have seen Jessica once more, or gotten to see his real mom, maybe even give her an actual hug.

Talked to his Dad without either of them yelling…..

The rush of wings alerted him to the presence of an angel. Still running on the memory of Heaven and Zechariah Sam sat bolt upright, fisting balled and the muscles in his legs tensing – torn between flight or fight.

He almost collapsed when he realized it was just Raeth. She had been alerted by his breakdown no doubt. He wiped his hands down his cheeks, sniffed and blinked to dry his eyes.

"Raeth," he gasped. "I'm sorry…. I-"

"For what?" she broke in.

"For breaking down, for being a mess-"

"For being human in other words?"

Sam sighed heavily. "I was raised by an ex-Marine. He taught me that no matter what I faced I should face it on my feet."

Raeth crossed the distance between them as if she was approaching a wounded animal. The next thing Sam knew there was a soft heavy blanket draped around his shoulders and Raeth was standing in front of him holding out a ceramic mug with steam rising from the top.

"Take it," she said, pushing it towards him.

Sam did, grateful for the warm as he wrapped his hands around it. He expected the scent of coffee to rise up with the stream so he was surprised when he smelled chocolate instead.

"Hot cocoa?" He asked, lifting his eyebrows.

"Drink it." It was close to an order and considering what Sam had just seen her do, he chose to comply.

He also wasn't expecting to find it laced with a rather liberal shot of alcohol. So the first swallow set off a brief coughing fit.

"Whiskey?" He guessed, gasping, sounding raw.

Raeth sat down beside him and adjusted the blanket, tucking in the edges around him.

"Your mind is a cage full of squirrels right now. This will soothe it. Go on. Finish it."

Prepared for the heat and contents, Sam took a healthy swallow, followed by another and then another until he had drained it dry. He held it out to her and she made it vanish into thin air.

Raeth fussed over the blanket one more time, smoothing it between his shoulder blades so that she could rub his back for a moment. Then she moved around to kneel behind him. The next thing he knew she was brushing his hair.

He started to protest. No one had ever brushed his hair and he usually hollered if anyone tried. Even his father had given up trying to get near his hair, when Sam was still quite small. It was one of the few battles against his father that Sam had ever won.

In the car ride back to their childhood home three years ago, Missouri had commented that his reaction came from a past life experience. Sam hadn't had time to dwell on that possibility then; and he didn't now. Instead, he closed his eyes and relaxed, letting the calm rhythm of her brushstrokes work on his shattered nerves.

"I have something I have to tell you, what Joshua told us," he murmured, reluctantly.

"I know," she murmured back. "Dean told us."

It was then that Sam realized that everything she was doing to soothe him was a much for herself. He hadn't known that angels could be rattled. But being deserted by your father was unnerving to anyone he supposed. He tipped his head back so that she could brush his hair from front to back.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

"Castiel is devastated," she replied, vaguely. "The angels of the Seventh Heaven worked much more closely with our Father. Those of us in the Third Heaven have known for a long time that His Seat has been empty."

She stopped brushing and fluffed his hair with her fingertips a little. Then she sat down beside him again.

"For the last few thousand years of man's existence, our Father seems to believe that if we conjured it, we should clean it up."

Sam's heart clenched in his chest. It was a sentiment he agreed with.

"He's not wrong," he observed, staring at the floor unseeing.

Raeth moved her hand down Sam's cheek. "Please tell me what you're thinking," she said, "What are you planning? Why do you need to know if you can take control of Lucifer. Even if you can, you can't hold him forever."

"Maybe I won't have to," Sam returned, cryptically. He was gazing forward again, looking at nothing

"Sam," she said, impatiently.

"I'm not actually sure what I'm planning," he admitted. "Do you know if the Cage is still open?"

"It has a shield over it that isn't easy to remove, but it hasn't been resealed."

"Do you know how to open the shield?

"No, I'm not high enough in rank to be given that kind of information."

"Who would know how?"

"I'm not sure."

"Castiel?"

"I doubt it. One of the archangels surely."

"Well Lucifer isn't going to tell me," Sam said, drily, "Michael? Could you ask him?"

Raeth gaped at him. "Ask Michael? I can ask for an audience with Michael, which he might grant in a thousand years or longer."

Sam nodded as if he had already known the answer. "So that leaves-"

"Gabriel," Raeth supplied.

"We know he's on Earth. Can you find him? Talk to him?"

Raeth steeled her heart to refuse him. If she had learned anything in the last day it was that her place was at Sam's side.

"Sam, I just left you to go find Castiel and you were killed in your bed. I'm not leaving you again to go chasing after Gabriel."

Sam made a derisive sound in his throat. "It's pretty obvious that I'm safe even from death at this point. I think I'll be okay for a few days if you go try to find Gabriel for me."

Her eyes flashed fire. "You're safe from hunters largely thanks to me," she said, stiffly. "You're safe from the angels who are trying to protect you. You are not safe from the demons who want to possess you and take you straight to Lucifer. You are not safe from Zechariah and his minions and that should be perfectly clear to you."

Sam had the good sense to look away. He just didn't have the good sense to back down. He was nothing if not tenacious.

"What if I said please?" He asked in a soft hopeful voice, the one he used when he was being his most charming. He turned to look at her, keeping his eyelids cast down so that he was looking at her through his lashes. His eyes were still red-rimmed. His lashes were damp and spikey.

Raeth ground her teeth together.

"Is this what your brother calls 'puppy dog eyes'?"

"What?" Sam asked.

She was prevented from answering when someone banged on the paper thin wall between the rooms.

"Sam!" Dean shouted. "The hell is taking you so long?"

Sam sighed and stood up. "We should go back. We'll talk about this later, okay?"

Raeth gave him a look that said she hoped it was much later. Sam gestured at the room.

"You said you'd put it all back the way it was."

She didn't blink or so much as twitch, but the towel on the floor vanished and the bedspread smoothed out. Sam assumed the bathroom was once again clean as well. Then he felt that odd tingling that always accompanied being transported somewhere by an angel. His vision blurred around the edges and when it cleared he was back in the room he had shared with Dean.

It too was pristine.

When Raeth had characterized Castiel as devastated she had not been understating the facts. Castiel was staring into space, leaning on the wall, looking lost and without hope. She started towards him and stopped. Castiel's pain was brittle and real. Sam saw the understanding come over Raeth and she stepped back into the corner by the bed. She lifted the drape a little and stood looking out the window, her back to everyone.

Sam felt Castiel's pain. He had always felt that faith as steady and true as his own would somehow be rewarded in the end. It was hard being forced to swallow the bitter truth.

Sam started packing up his stuff. Dean was almost finished.

"Maybe," Castiel said, despairingly. "Maybe Joshua was lying."

Raeth drew in a soft breath, as if the idea stunned her, much less that he would say such a thing out loud. Sam and Dean both looked at Cas. Sam was heartbroken. Dean already had on his jacket; his bag was packed. It was clear he was ready to put all of this behind him. His face was hard and unforgiving. Sam gave his brother a beseeching look. Raeth had already backed away from the despair she saw in Castiel. Dean was the one who supposedly shared a profound bond with Cas. He should go to him. He should say something. But Dean turned away.

"I don't think he was, Cas. I'm sorry," Sam said. He sighed in resignation.

Dean watched as Castiel moved into the entryway. Castiel looked up.

"You son of a bitch," he snarled. His voice sounded as if it had been raked over hot coals. "I believed in-"

Dean turned. Sorrow wasn't something he liked to deal with, but anger he understood. He seemed to hover now, torn about whether to approach Castiel or not.

Castiel searched the ceiling and the heavens for any sign that he had been heard at all… But there was only silence. Grimly Castiel turned back to the brothers, looking at Dean.

Pulling the amulet from his pocket he tossed it to Dean. "I don't need this anymore. It's worthless." He turned away again.

Desperately, Sam said, "Cas. Wait."

Castiel answered by vanishing in a rush of wings.

Sam trembled with repressed fury and frustration. Dean was still staring at the amulet in his hands.

Taking a breath, Sam said, "We'll find another way. We can still stop all this, Dean."

Dean tossed him a sour look. "How?"

"I don't know," Sam hedged, but then he forged on, trying to fix two issues at the same time while Dean was still listening to him, before Dean shut him out. "But we'll find it. You and me, we'll find it.

Dean looked skeptical and Sam knew why. More than just faith in a supreme being had been lost in Heaven. Dean no longer believed in Sam either.

He picked up his bag and marched past Sam without sparing him a glance. His eyes were dark and his jaw was set in a straight, harsh line. He paused at the door and deliberately dropped the amulet in the trash, making sure that Sam was watching.

The sound it made striking the bottom went through Sam like a hot knife. Memories flooded him – giving the amulet to Dean, Dean swearing he would never take it off, Dean reluctantly giving it to Castiel and making him promise he would take care of it….

Dean had worn the amulet even in his sleep for over a decade. He had worn it when Sam abandoned them to go to college. He had worn it even after it had hit him in the mouth and chipped a tooth during a fight. It had been Dean's symbol of their relationship, of Sam's devotion…

Now it was lying in a trash can in the Econo-King motel…

Raethaniel came towards him.

"Sam?"

He shook away his sadness and went to fish the amulet out of the basket.

"I wasn't aware," she said, "Dean had that much faith, that he is now so wounded by my Father's refusal to help."

"It's not just that," Sam told her sadly. "He's mad at me."

"At you? What could you have possibly done in Heaven to make him angry?"

Sam sighed and sat down on the bed, dangling the amulet between his hands. It was an ugly thing really. But Bobby had told him it was special…. That's why he had given it to Dean.

"Apparently I wasn't looking for him and all my happy memories involve me being anywhere but with my family."

"I told you not to look for him. Castiel contacted him first and sent him looking for you. It was vital that you stayed where you were so he could find you."

"Yes, but he found me at some stranger's Thanksgiving. Then he followed me to a place where I was happy and he was getting his ass kicked by my Dad for losing me. He's pissed about that."

"You weren't in Heaven long enough to have reviewed all your happy memories. Surely some of them involve Dean."

"Probably," he acknowledged. "But we didn't get to any of them. Dean is happier around people. He goes out when I choose to stay in. He seeks people and he makes friends easily. He'll pick any way to interact no matter how briefly. I like being alone. It doesn't mean I don't love him. I do. He's my brother. But family is also important to Dean and as far as that goes, I'm all he has. He wants this family to make me happy and it doesn't always."

Raeth stare at him aghast. "With everything that's happening your brother is going to be angry with you for wanting your own life and … and… how do you phrase it? Alone time?"

Sam smiled ruefully and spread his hands. "I'm all he has," he repeated.

She shook her head slowly. "I find humans to be so baffling at times."

"Yeah," Sam said, ruefully.

He stood up again and grabbed his bag just as the car horn sounded from the parking lot.

"Will you think about doing what I asked? About Gabriel? We're running out of options," he asked her.

Raethaniel sighed. She suddenly found it impossible to deny Sam anything he wanted.

"Yes," she said, "But keep your phone on and near you and call me the instant you need me."

"Promise," Sam said. The spark of hope in his eyes was her reward for agreeing to leave him, if only for a short time.

Raethaniel only prayed it was worth it.

(0)


	116. Safe, Just in Case

Dean was not an introspective man. He had never been one to care about understanding himself or the world deeply. Growing up all his instincts for action had been honed to a fine edge. First and foremost he couldn't walk into any situation without assessing it for threats, potential weapons and escape routes. It came naturally to Dean. All John Winchester – former Marine - had done was open the right doors. Between the brothers Dean was the more perfectly made when it came to hunting – a man whose simple and humane inner core was solidly encased in hunter instincts and earthy pragmatisms.

Sam knew this. He had always known it. What he had always miscalculated, what he had never quite grasped, was how important it was to Dean that Sam loved him. How this ridiculously obvious fact had escaped Sam even after Dean had been willing to give up his immortal soul for an eternity in Hell – just so that Sam could have a handful of years or decades in an uncertain future – Sam didn't know. It was more than the indoctrination of 'take care of Sammy'. It was something Dean needed, innately, all by itself.

Losing the help of a merciful God could never hit Dean as hard as thinking that his brother had never loved him. Growing up, Sam had adored Dean. He still did. But it was different. It had to be different because, dammit, Sam wasn't 10 years old anymore.

Which of course was not what Dean's fragile heart needed to hear right now.

Nor did he need any hints that his heart might be fragile.

Cajoling wouldn't work.

Chattering about Sam's own happier childhood memories wouldn't work. (Dean would see right through that.)

Sam climbed into the car and shoved his bag over his shoulder into the back seat. He sank down, put his knees as close to the dashboard as Dean ever allowed, put his head back and closed his eyes. He didn't try to stop the groan that slipped out.

It cracked Dean's sullen silence immediately. It kicked Dean straight out of his personally wounded funk into 'take care of Sammy' mode. Maybe it was manipulative. Sam didn't care at the moment.

"What's wrong?" Dean demanded, gruffly.

"Headache," Sam said, not untruthfully. Raeth's hot chocolate had gone a long way to soothing his jangled nerves. Watching Dean toss the amulet in the trash had amped the tension right back up.

There was a pause. Sam could feel Dean in the air around him. He could sense how hard Dean was hanging onto his anger. Dean leaned over and Sam heard the glove box door open. A plastic bottle landed in his lap. Aspirin, Sam guessed.

Opening his yes, he found Dean sitting up and starting the car; and a bottle of generic aspirin lying in his lap.

"Chew a couple of those. We'll go get some breakfast. There's a coffee stand on the corner. You'll feel better."

Sam grunted as he twisted the cap on the bottle so the arrows lined up. Dean left the parking lot and took them to the coffee stand. He ordered two Americana, a cheese Danish and banana nut muffin and flirted with the barista pretty shamelessly. Sam stayed quiet, with his eyes closed, and enjoyed the sound of his brother taking care of him.

Because as frustrating as it was to be a grown man with a world of problems on his head and a strong sense that he really should be able to handle those problems on his own, having Dean take care of him was normal. Knowing Dean still wanted to take care of him was comforting.

Dean hit him on the arm, holding out the coffee to him.

"Take it or wear it," Dean ordered. "It's hot."

For the second time that morning Sam accepted a cup of liquid from someone who loved him. He wasn't sure about the wisdom of putting caffeine in his system. Now that everything was over and he was sitting in the car, he realized what he really needed was 'alone time'; time to get himself back under control. Every muscle in his body seemed to have picked up its own little vibrating tremor, an adrenaline rush, excitement overload. He lifted the coffee to his lips with both hands and drank.

Dean hit the road and followed the signs to the interstate, getting lost once even though Sam told him the sign had said next left not right. Dean turned around and Sam finished his coffee as they rode up the entrance ramp onto I90 heading East. Sam didn't ask where they were going. He had been doing this long enough to know that at the moment the answer was pretty much 'east'.

Sam tried to get comfortable enough to sleep. He was hoping that the familiar movement of the Impala, the sounds of the tires on the asphalt and the traffic around them would all serve to lull him. But it didn't work. The 'squirrel cage' in his mind had been reactivated by the caffeine and he was wide awake.

It was going to be a long drive to wherever they were going if he didn't find some way to heal the breach. They'd been good at this once. When they had first run into the Trickster it had only taken a moment and a few stuttered, half-formed sentences to apologize and move on.

Sometimes sorry didn't mean that one was right and the other was wrong. Sometimes it just meant that the relationship was more important.

"Look, Dean-" he began in the exact same breath that Dean said, "Look, Sammy-"

They both stopped, self-conscious, looking hurriedly away. Sam looked back first.

"I don't want to have to apologize for something I did when I was 12," he said, carefully. "I don't want to start pointing fingers and placing blame." (Because maybe Sam wouldn't have run away if Dean hadn't kept dumping him in a place run by a scary clown ….) Sam took a breath and forced the squirrel cage to shut down again. He really didn't want to start doing that. It was over. It was done. "Mostly, I…. I don't want you to sit here being angry with your 12 year old brother and taking it out on me. I'm not that kid anymore."

Dean cast him a disgruntled looked. "You sure?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Sam shot back. "I tried to run and it didn't work. So I'm here. I just don't want to be here feeling guilty about sometimes wanting my own life; especially when I know that," he stopped and swallowed hard, softening his tone, "sometimes you want that for me too."

A muscle rippled in Dean's jaw. He needed a fight at the moment. He needed something to lash out at and Sam had been an easy target. But Sam had never been a willing, easy target. Sam felt guilty about literally everything. But he had never let anyone use him as a scape goat or a punching bag. Dean decided to let it go for now. Picking a bar fight was a better way to deal anger and pain, though it wasn't something he did consciously.

"Okay, yeah, you're here," Dean said, reluctantly.

"And I'm staying," Sam said, firmly.

Dean grunted, settled down deeper in the driver's seat and fixed his eyes on the blacktop disappearing under the wheels. Sam knew that was the closest thing to an apology he was likely to get. This time when he slid down until his knees brushed the dashboard he could already feel sleep creeping up on him. He finished the coffee, crumbled the cup and tossed it onto the floor of the backseat. Then he folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes.

The amulet was safe in his pocket but now wasn't the time to give it back. Sam wasn't sure there would ever be a time for that. But he would keep it safe, just in case.

(0)


	117. One More Thing He Forgot

The phone rang with Raethaniel’s special tone and Sam almost fumbled and dropped it in his haste to answer.

“Did you find him?” He asked, breathlessly.

“Hello,” Raeth replied, sounding aggrieved.

Sam pulled himself up short, exhaled and said “Hello. Sorry. Did you find Gabriel?”

“Have a found an archangel vastly more powerful than I am who doesn’t actually want to be found? No. Can we talk about this in person?”

Sam told her where he was and she appeared in the room before he had a chance to end the call. She spoke his name, low and gentle, a benediction, a prayer.

“ _Sam.”_

Then before he knew what was happening, she was nestled against him, arms around his waist and his own arms folding her in an embrace. Sam settled around her, bending, resting his cheek on her hair. They came together like dancers who had practiced the move a thousand times. Raeth was like running to the Impala in a driving rain, thunder and lightning crashing all around

She was warm and soft.

Sam forgot everything in a sweet, sublime moment in which his life was perfect because an angel loved him and would do anything for him. He forgot about the Cage and Gabriel. He forgot Lucifer and the Whore of Babylon. He forgot that she had called him and probably had important news….

He forgot to tell her Dean had run off and abandoned him here, probably to seek out Lisa….

Raeth tipped her face up to look at him and said, “Do we need to talk?” But Sam made a sound in his throat that was probably no and stopped her from speaking by damming her mouth with his own.

Then – no words for what happened next. Raeth took all the rest of the decisions away from him because somehow, still kissing, Sam was suddenly flat on his back on the bed. She landed above him, straddled him, hair falling forward to shelter him, and sleek, bare skin everywhere he put his hands. Her tongue asked for entrance and he surrendered it. Warm, deep wet kisses followed as clothes hit the floor. The front of his shirt had opened by some magic and Raeth pulled it open and was pushing it off his shoulders. He thought for a moment she was just going to rip the sleeves from his wrists but then his shirt simply disappeared and it became one more thing he forgot.

She sat up, still astride him, and Sam didn’t even try not to stare. She caught hold of the edge of her sweater, crossing her arms in front of her to do so. Then she lifted it up and over her head, stretching like a cat greeting the sun. Her body was made to move. She was graceful and athletic. Her breasts, round and full, were lifted by the motion. Her hair fell back and revealed the line of her neck and her back arched.

Raeth relaxed out of the stretch and let the sweater slip off her hand, landing on the floor. She looked at Sam with ancient eyes; eyes unlike anything he had ever seen. They were polished stones, agate, topaz gems lit with fire. Sam almost thought he saw soft adoration in their golden brown depths.

Her lips were wet and shiny, the color of sunset.

Clearly she had shed her sweater for the simple joy of letting him watch. It had worked. Sam was on fire for her. She leaned forward again so that her breasts touched his chest. She kissed him and it was hot and sweet, like melting sugar on his lips. Her fingers slid into his hair, asking and Sam made another sound that was definitely yes. Raeth rose up and Sam’s eyes closed as he shifted his hips. They flowed together like water. She turned her face into his neck, suckled gently before lightly biting down. Sam groaned. She trailed her nails across his broad shoulders and down his arms and little hot lines of sensation ran in their wake. Sam rocked hard, hot and sweating, shivering. Raeth took his face between her hands, pressed her forehead to his, kissing him frantically, deep, open-mouthed kisses, pushing down to meet him, and whispering yes into his mouth.

Unable to stop, Sam came abruptly and completely, encouraged to revel in it by Raeth’s soft breathless laugh of delight. It was no human sound, no earthly utterance. It moved over Sam like a wild wind across a prairie. It was followed by a sharp intake of breath, surprise. Sam was not so lost in his own passion that he was unaware of hers. He tightened his arms around her, turned his face into her hair and repeated her name in a broken litany of stunned ecstasy.

Sam felt half-dazed and nine-tenths drunk. Raeth nestled on top of him, loose and languid. She pressed her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder and gave a long, soft sigh of contentment.

A moment passed and then Raeth sat up, laughing again.

“This isn’t why I called you, Sam,” she said, rolling off him onto the lumpy motel mattress.

Sam rolled over onto his side and gathered her into his arms. For the first time since Dean had roared off into the night in search of Lisa, Sam thought he might be able to sleep.

“No, it isn’t,” he agreed in a voice slurred and drowsy. He snuggled closer and tucked her under his chin.

“It can wait,” Raeth said, stroking a hand down his chest.

“’Kay,” Sam murmured.

Raeth started to say something else to him. But then she realized he was already asleep.

(0)


	118. Farewell Tour

Sam woke as he always did – instantly aware and without opening his eyes. Hunters knew better than to immediately announce their state of being, even if they had fallen asleep in a perfectly safe place.  He took in his surroundings with all his other senses heightened – the low hum of the ancient air conditioner, the traffic going by outside the motel, voices from the other rooms muffled but still audible through the paper-thin walls, the smell of the cheap laundry soap on the sheets and the way those same sheets scratched against his skin. He could also feel the weight of the blanket over him and suspected that at some point Raeth had covered him. He had discovered that she liked to do that – throw blankets over him when he fell asleep.

He was also aware of Raeth, nestled up against him. He knew without opening his eyes that she was lying on her stomach, her head pillowed partially on her folded arms and partially on Sam’s bicep.  His arm was loosely placed around her, fingers threaded through her hair and resting lightly on her shoulder. The scent of her filled him with warmth and familiarity – it was celestial and earthy at the same time, something he recognized and something that was elusive; but still entirely Raethaniel.

He opened his eyes and slowly turned towards her, the way a flower turns towards the sun. She was watching him and her eyes were melted chocolate – dark and sweet. Her unbound hair spilled over her back and hips like loose gold. Her skin shone. She looked like the sun on a misty morning.

Now fully in the moment, Sam realized that Dean had still not returned.  There was no evidence of him or the car at all. He shook off the concern and disappointment and managed a dry, sleepy half-smile.

“Hey,” he said. 

From the look on her face, he wasn’t fooling her at all.

“Where is Dean?” She asked, pointedly, but with compassion.

Sam sighed and flopped onto his back again, letting his head sink into the thin pillow.

“On his farewell tour,” he answered sourly.

Raeth lifted her head, eyebrows knitting in a confused frown. She started to ask what he meant but Sam abruptly changed the subject.  He waved his left hand vaguely in the air above his chest and said, “I’m sorry for … last night? This morning? Yesterday?  I’m not even sure what day it is.  I know you didn’t call me just to wind up … in bed.”

Her frown deepened. “Was it something you needed?” She asked.

Sam frowned back. “Um yeah, I … guess?  I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Raeth lifted one shoulder. “Humans were created with certain needs.”

“But now I sounds like I used you somehow,” Sam began.

“You only took what I offered you freely,” Raeth said, dismissing the subject. She rolled onto her side. “What did you mean by Dean being on a farewell tour? I understand farewell means goodbye, but-”

“He’s visiting all the people he cares about and saying goodbye.  He’s going to say to Michael.  I just don’t know when or if he’s going to come back and say goodbye to me before he does it.”

The words fell on Raethaniel like shards of ice.

“Why? Why would he say yes?”

“He’s close to breaking.  He’s done with all this.  If he has to sacrifice himself to stop it then he will. I just…..” Sam stopped speaking. Raeth felt his hands ball into fists.

Cautiously she said, “You’ve been thinking the same thing – saying yes to Lucifer. I know you have or there is no point to our exercises in attempting to control a possessing angel.”

Sam didn’t answer.  He knew Raethaniel had had suspicions about his motives. But she had continued to train him, challenge him – and the last time they had sparred for his vessel he had come close to chaining her.  She had taught him how to summon and angel blade and angel chains. He was improving.  He was growing strong. It reminded him sharply of his time with Ruby and that reminder caused cravings he wanted to forget…..

“Sam?”  Her voice drew him back to the present.

“Why did you call me?” He asked, once again changing the subject. “Did you find Gabriel?”

“No, I haven’t,” she answered, “and I have come to realize that I am not going to – not in this space and time. He could literally be anywhere. If I am going to find him, I have to do something different.”

“Different how?”

“When he tormented you with all those different realities, you left him trapped in a ring of Holy oil, temporarily unable to move.”

“That was years ago,” Sam said.

Raeth held Sam’s eyes in a level gaze and waited for him to figure it out.  He was smart and she refused to treat him as if he were not. She knew that he had arrived at the only logical conclusion when his eyebrows lifted and then lowered abruptly in disapproval.

“You’re going to go back in time and meet him there.”

“Yes,” she said, simply, “and you want to argue with me about it. But you’ve already come to the conclusion that I have.  It’s the only to find him – to go to where I already know that he will be.”

Sam held the scowl for a moment longer and then closed his eyes, sighing heavily.

“I won’t be able to reach you.”

“It’s time, Sam,” she said, “I can return to this very moment if I choose.”

“But time is always tricky and angels are always exhausted when they return.”

“There isn’t any choice. I’ll have to chase Gabriel through time to get him to tell me how to reopen the Cage.”

Reluctantly Sam asked, “You’ll come right back?”

“As soon as I can,” she replied.

And because Sam needed the information Raethaniel was seeking, he leaned in and kissed her. She kissed back tenderly and then touched her lips once more to his cheek before disappearing in a snap of wings.

Sam held his breath, waiting.

His heart had barely beat three times before she snapped back into existence. She no longer looked like the sun on a spring morning.  Now she looked like an arctic sunset; so pale her skin was almost translucent. Her lips were light pink, tinged with blue. She looked stunned, wide eyed.

“ _Sam!”_  She barely had the strength to gasp out his name before collapsing in his arms.

He caught her, silently cursing the drain that time travel had on the angels. He picked her up and placed her carefully on the bed. Not knowing what else to do and needing to do something, Sam pulled the blankets over her and tucked them in because she looked cold. He had no idea if that would help or not.  He still wasn’t sure how much control an angel exerted over a vessel.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, fidgeted for a bit, picked at Raeth’s blankets and watched her, hoping for signs of returning consciousness.

When that didn’t happen he checked his phone for messages from Dean but there were none.

Inactivity didn’t suit Sam but he hadn’t grown up trapped in the backseat of an Impala without learning how to be entertained while staying in place. He got out the laptop, opened it up and continued waiting.

(0)


	119. Winchester-itis

When Raeth arrived at the broken warehouse, Sam, Dean and Castiel were just walking out the door and the sprinkler system was pouring down full blast on the trapped archangel Gabriel.

She had just enough time to look into her brother’s stunned expression and gasp out, “Gabriel!” before collapsing from the exertion of time travel. Fortunately the fire was out and Gabriel got to her before she hit the concrete.

The touch of an archangel had the power to instantly heal; so Raeth’s ‘travel sickness’ passed quickly. She sat up and Gabriel sat back on his haunches to regard her.

“If you came to ask me to let them go again, you’re too late.  I already did.”

Raeth shook her head, grateful that she could do so without passing out. “No, you didn’t,” she reminded him bluntly. “They discovered who you are and forced you to let them go.” Then she remembered to whom she was speaking and inhaled sharply. “Gabriel, forgive me.”

Gabriel – who was suddenly desert-dry, as if he had never been wet a moment in his life – pulled a sardonic grin and said, “Hey don’t worry about it.  It’s my day for smack downs, I guess; doesn’t happen to an arch angel very often.”

There was the barest flicker of pain and introspection in his eyes before the cocky grin returned.

“So what are you doing in here with me? Shouldn’t you be out there checking to see if Sam is all right?”

“I _am_ out there,” Raeth replied. “But I am also in here with you.”

He frowned, head tilted like a curious cat, brow furrowed in thought.

“Ah,” he said, after only a short moment of concentration. “Little sister has been flittering around in time. So ‘when’ are you from? Have Sam and Dean come to their senses yet?”

“You know I can’t tell you that,” Raeth said, gently.

“Then why _are_ you here?”

“Sam has a question I can’t answer and I can’t find you any other way. I had to return to a place in time that I was certain you still occupied.”

“Smart angel, though I was just about to whisk myself out of here.  That was close timing. What does the Giant Redwood need to know?”

“How to break the current seal on Lucifer’s cage.”

It was bluntly stated and actually caught Gabriel off guard.  He sat down on the dirty, debris-strewn factory floor and propped his arms on his raised knees.

“The Winchesters don’t mess around, do they?” He mused.

“No, they don’t,” Raeth agreed.

“Huh,” Gabriel exhaled, “Lucifer himself sealed that Cage. He can’t destroy it but he wanted to make certain no one could ever put him in it again.”

“Only our Father can create something that cannot be undone; not even Lucifer is that strong.”

Gabriel’s eyes shifted sideways. 

“There _is_ a way to open it, isn’t there?”

“Maybe. But I won’t tell you what it is.”

“Gabriel-“

He held up his hands and cut her off. “Nope. Not gonna happen. I don’t know what Sam is planning and I’m pretty sure you won’t tell me. But this thing has to play out now.  There’s no going back and only an idiot would get in between Michael and Lucifer.”

“I’m not asking you to get between them-“

“Michael doesn’t want Lucifer out of the Cage.  Michael went to a great deal of trouble to make sure that Cage got opened,” Gabriel shifted on the balls of his feet, looking spooked and chastised.

Softly, awed, Raeth said, “You’ve seen him?”

“Oh yeah, I got hauled home by a none-too-happy big brother when he found out I was hiding out on Earth. He’s probably going to do it again after this. You know. Castiel knows…..”

“I’m not going to say anything,” Raeth told him. “I’m not here to get you into trouble.  I’m not here for anything but information.”

Gabriel gave her a hard, narrow-eyed look, scowling. It confused her for a moment, but only for a moment. She sighed heavily and shook her head.

“I’m also not stupid enough to blackmail one of the archangels.”

Gabriel made a scoffing sound in his throat and shook his head. “If I were you I wouldn’t go looking for Michael anyway.  You aren’t exactly playing your role the way he wanted either.”

A trill of alarm ran through Raethaniel’s veins. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you think you got pulled off Gate duty for the all-important job of guarding Lucifer’s vessel? You are Raethaniel – an angel of the Third Heaven who went to Earth and became of the greatest demon hunters Heaven ever spawned. Didn’t you ever wonder why you were put on Gate duty in the first place?” Gabriel was using a teaching voice, a challenging voice; daring her to think.

“I was told not to question that assignment,” Raeth hedged.

“Of course you were, right after your memory of why it was happening was wiped.”

Raeth blinked. “What?”

“You may have been the best demon hunter out of Heaven,  little sis, but you committed the one cardinal sin for which angels can’t be pardoned – you fell in love with a human,” he saw by the startled look on her face that she had been remembering that, bit by bit. “Ah!  You do remember him. Tall guy? Brown hair? Solomon’s youngest son?”

“ _Samuel,”_ she exhaled.

“Yep; and that isn’t just irony, believe it or not. That was the first incarnation of the soul that is now Samuel Dean Winchester….  Come _on,_ Raeth. You had to have known, or guessed or sensed something.”

“But then why would they send me to guard him!” She protested. “If I got into trouble for falling in love with him-“

“I’m pretty sure they thought you wouldn’t remember,” Gabriel surmised. “It was a risk they were willing to take considering you’re almost the only angel left in Heaven who loved Lucifer even though you refused to follow his rebellion. Don’t deny it. You know it’s true.  You have an impossible time holding any of us accountable.

“And Lucifer is a sociopathic, narcissistic, ego-maniacal bastard put for some reason he always had a soft spot for you. I never knew why, neither did Michael and if you asked Lucifer he wouldn’t ever say. He said it would ‘jinx it”, whatever that meant. So here was Michael setting up the Cage Match of All Time and he needed someone to A) make sure nothing happened to Lucifer’s perfect vessel and B) try to talk that vessel into saying yes.” Raeth started to speak but Gabriel was on a roll.  He held up a hand to stop her as he leaped to his feet and began to pace. “But you aren’t trying to talk him into it are you?  Oh no, you are _not._ Sam is digging in deeper and you keep handing him longer shovels.  You’ve come down firmly on the side of that walking Flag Pole – over the wishes of your _family,_ of _Michael;_ and now you’ve risked time travel to ask how to reopen the Cage.”

Raeth had grown pale as Gabriel laid out Heaven’s grievances. He stopped pacing and turned to face her.

“So I wouldn’t go trying to find Michael right now. Angels are supposed to be obedient. I know you remember that.”

Raeth stood up, though she was shaking. She squared her shoulders.  Her eyes slanted into dragon-slits and flashed blue-gold.

“I was told to keep Sam safe. I have done so.  I never received any other orders. Certainly I was never told to encourage him to say yes to Lucifer.  I do still love my brother. But I won’t subvert the free will of any human, much less Sam.”

“Because you love humanity, but you _love_ Sam,” Gabriel observed shrewdly. His tone was mocking but his expression was kind. “Look, it’s okay. I get it.  I’ve been watching them and, seriously, it’s the damned Winchesters. It’s like martyrdom and rebellion and stubbornness pour off them like some air-borne biohazard.  Spend too much time around them and _BAM_! You’re doing things you never imagined, probably going to get your ass kicked and the hell of it is - _it seems like a good idea!_ I mean, look at Castiel. He’s got a bad case of Winchester-it is – and so do you.”

Raeth looked away from her older brother, closed her eyes and tamped down her frustration, She wondered how Gabriel had the ability to so endearing and yet so incredibly maddening. Gabriel’s voice softened even more.

“Maybe there’s a cure,” he went on, though he didn’t sound hopeful. “Some kind of magic tablet you can take while we work on a vaccine to prevent it. In the meantime….” He trailed off and shrugged.

She looked at him again. “In the meantime what?”

“In the meantime try not to do something stupid!: He snapped. Then pulled himself up and went on more gently, “Go back to your time and give Sam a message for me. Tell him – not now. But maybe later.”

“Maybe later you’ll tell him how to get into the Cage?”

“Yes.”

“When you make up your mind about whose side you are on? Whether you’ve come down with Winchester-it is or not?” Raeth asked.

Gabriel glanced at her sharply. “Yes,” he admitted. “I’ve been trying to keep my distance but I just had a lot of contact with them.  Who knows what I may have come down with?”

Raeth gave him a small smile. “Apparently it’s already too late for me.”

Gabriel stepped towards her, put his hand on the side of her and kissed her cheek. “Be careful.  Lucifer may have his own reasons for his affection for you. But it might not be enough if he finds out what you are doing.”

Raeth shrugged lightly. “We’re all just doing what we think is right.” She kissed his cheek fondly, lifted her wings and dove into time.

(0)


	120. Would You Still Love Him

They had discovered that it was far easier for Sam to battle Lucifer than it was to hurl Raethaniel against a wall, pull her Grace from her vessel and bind her with angel chains. So the 'being' before he saw before him now was the image of Lucifer and he wasn't holding back in his efforts to regain control of his vessel.

Angel blades clashed, rang. The force of the blow sent a shock down Sam's arm as the blades slid along each other until the hilts were touching and Sam was barely inches from the face of Lucifer. Metal hissed and sparked against metal.

"What do you hope to gain here, Sam?" 'He' asked. "You can't control me."

Unable to hold the position, Sam broke and spun out of the way. Lucifer lunged after him but missed. Still, Sam felt the wind of the angel blade as it passed his ear and suspected he'd just lost an inch or two of hair.

He recovered quickly, took a defensive stance, crouched and ready. Lucifer took a step to the side and Sam matched it.

They circled each other warily.

"Your vessel is mine," Lucifer hissed. "I can do what I want with it. …. I know, let's go find Dean. If I wanted to get this whole thing started nothing would do it faster than to torture Michael's vessel to the point of being useless."

Anger surged through Sam but he kept it in check. Anger made him sloppy and he couldn't afford that.

"Of course if I torture Dean enough he might say yes to Michael just to end the torture," Lucifer went on with lazy insolence. "We both know your brother can only take so much."

Sam's nostrils flared and he ground his teeth together. "Not this time. Dean would die first."

Lucifer smiled and it was the most terrible thing Sam had ever witnessed. Lucifer lifted a shoulder in a dismissive shrug.

"Okay," he agreed, wickedly, eyes glittering in triumph. "Then I win."

Sam couldn't stop the fury this time. It boiled out of him like a nest of disturbed hornets. The power inside him rose up, the curse/gift of it resonating like black lightning. Time seemed to slow. Sam dropped to his left knee and bent his head as Lucifer lunged at him. The angel blade whistled over his head. He pivoted on his knee as Lucifer went past. Without looking, guided by years of training, he slashed sideways and sliced Lucifer across the back of his leg. A sliver of blue light appeared.

The dark angel howled in rage, spinning around to confront Sam, angel blade plunging downward. Instead of rising, Sam flowed smoothly into a shoulder roll and put distance between them. Lucifer's blade went through the air again, spearing the place he had expected Sam to be. Sam came up twirling his angel blade and bracing his feet.

Lucifer charged, turning his blade over his head two-handed like a helicopter propeller. Sam waited until the last second and then dropped into a squat, drew back his blade and aimed a slash at the bright blue wound on Lucifer's leg. This time it opened as if cut by a scythe.

Sam leapt to his feet as Lucifer went down and drove his blade backwards in a blind attack that went through Lucifer's arm and shoulder. Sam wrenched the blade free and danced away. His power raged now but he controlled it. He held up one hand, palm forward and directed that power outward….

You aren't fighting a physical form, Raeth had taught him. You're trying to break into the place in which Lucifer is hiding his Grace. It's his Grace you need to find and contain.

Little by little, blue-white light leaked towards Sam. Lucifer was 'bleeding' from multiple places now. He staggered to his feet and tried commanding his grace to return. Furious, Sam exerted more control.

At the same time, a box and chains carved with Enochian symbols appeared at his feet. The box was open, waiting.

An image of Dean being tortured flashed through Sam's mind and he gave a great burst of energy to his efforts. Blue-white light came howling at him but he directed it into the box, where the binding sigils held long enough for Sam to fall to his knees, slam the box shut and wrap it in chains.

Then he stood up and this time when he did, his vessel did too. He sat up on the bed, blinked in the mid-day sun that was pouring through the dusty motel window. Experimentally he walked around the room, paused to get a glass from the dresser and went to the bathroom to fill it with water. He drank slowly, getting his bearings and staring into the mirror just for the satisfaction of seeing his own eyes staring back.

"You can get out, Raeth," he said, quietly.

In his mind the box dissolved and his angel's Grace – because as well as she had played her role, the Grace he had captured was Raeth - drifted upward and disappeared.

In the next instance she was standing beside him in the tiny bathroom.

Sam looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her expression said sorry, not sorry and that she was proud of him.

"You did exactly what I told you to do," she said.

Sam grunted. He hadn't wanted to call on his power at all. He'd argued and raged at Raeth when she had suggested it. It had been the first true disagreement they'd had and it had gotten loud.

"You didn't give me much choice, not when you brought Dean into it just now," Sam said, sourly. He filled the glass, swallowed the contents in one gulp and left the bathroom.

Stalking into the main room, he sat down on the bed and then fell onto his back with a heavy sigh.

"Dean is my weakness," he murmured, darkly.

"Not in this case," Raeth observed. "If anything will help you beat the Devil it's a threat to Dean." She walked into the room as if she was circling a wounded animal and stopped a few feet from the bed. "You are acting as if you didn't just handily destroy my image and cage my Grace."

Sam leveraged himself up on his elbows and regarded her. "Did I?"

"I never lie to you," Raeth said. There was just enough dragon-slant to her eyes to warn him off the subject.

And since Sam knew that she would never lie to him he abandoned it. He was angry and upset in spite of his victory. Using his power still left a bad taste in his mouth. But it wasn't fair to take it out on Raeth.

"Should I be worried about how well you can channel your brother?" He asked. When she frowned in confusion, Sam clarified his meaning, "How well you can imitate Lucifer."

Raeth sighed unhappily. "I understand him. 'Channeling' him as you say is simply a matter of thinking of what I would do and then doing the exact opposite."

"But you still love him?" Sam wondered.

Encouraged by Sam's calmer demeanor, Raeth sat down on the bed beside him.

"If something happened to Dean," she said, slowly, "to …. Turn him. If he had stayed in Hell long enough to be turned demonic… Would you stop loving him? Would he stop being your brother?"

"No, of course not," Sam said quickly and then understanding dawned in his ever-changing eyes. "He's still your brother. You still have history together. You remember when he wasn't like this."

Raeth smiled, sadly, in acknowledgment. Her head dropped forward and her hair fell down to cover her face.

Sam sat up and reached over to brush back her hair and hook it behind her ear.

"I suppose there isn't any chance of talking to him about this, since he's so fond of you?" Sam suggested.

"This is my Father's plan, Sam. I doubt there is anything anyone can do about it now and if I try to interfere in that way, I am likely to find myself guarding a Gate with my memories wiped again. I think the chance to talk to my brother probably passed before I was even brought into existence," Raeth answered.

"Eons and eons ago?" Sam guessed. When she didn't answer right away, he nudged his knee against hers. "Raeth?"

She nodded distractedly. "When this Earth was still just dust spinning around my Father's latest baby star."

"So it really did start that way?" Sam asked lightly. He was beginning to think that all this talk of her fallen brother was taking her to a sad and despondent place.

"My Father liked to set things in motion just to see what would happen. But yes, mostly." As she spoke, Raeth sounded even more distracted.

Abruptly she stood up. "Can you do without for a few minutes? There is something I want to do, but it shouldn't talk long."

"Take as long as you need," Sam answered. "I need a shower and a nap before Dean gets back. Raeth, you aren't going to do something dangerous, are you?"

She hesitated but then said, "No, nothing dangerous."

She vanished and Sam sat still on the bed for long moments after she had left, replaying their battle and the conversation that had followed, trying to figure out where she might be going or what she might be doing. In the end he gave up. He was too tired, had too much on his mind and she had told him it wasn't dangerous. Believing that she would never lie to him, Sam went to take a shower.

(0)


	121. An Angel Yet to be Born

Raethaniel had not lied about the danger inherent in what she was about to attempt. There was always a certain risk to time travel, though she was getting good at it since meeting Sam Winchester.

The danger was in doing what she planned at all. Interfering with historical events was not just frowned on. It was forbidden. Angels weren't supposed to have opinions about things and events were supposed to unfold naturally and without Heavenly guidance.

But as Gabriel had pointed out, she was suffering from severe Winchester-it is. So she was going to do something that would no doubt get her in trouble but seemed perfectly acceptable at the moment.

She was going to try to save Lucifer. To do that, she was going back to a time before she had been born.

(0)

The first thing she became aware of was mist. She was surrounded by mist. Heaven was very different in the days before the Fall, before the Rebellion… The days before their Father had seemed to replace them with humans on a speck of dust he called Earth.

There were no divisions, no Gates, no real hierarchy.

But there was, certainly, mist.

The next thing she became aware was a set of eyes. They were huge, slanted open only to slits that turned the mist around them the color of swirling magma. Even in her trueform, Raeth could have walked into the cavernous black pupils without ducking her head.

Smooth and sharp as a spear point still glowing from the fire, the head of a great dragon rose up and tilted down so those eyes could regard her. Spikes framed the face and marched down the long, graceful neck like stalactites in a cave, black edged in crimson like hot coals. Raeth could see the long, sinuous body stretched out into the mist, flame-red, lying in repose at the moment, massive legs tucked beneath it.

Lucifer…..

"What are you?" Lucifer asked. His voice rang in her head. There were no real words spoken. "You appeared here, collapsed and sent a group of angels into histrionics. I sent them away and I've been sitting here watching you. But the mystery remains. What are you?"

Automatically, her frozen in fear by the presence of an archangel – who had been watching her!- she responded, "I am an angel of the Lord."

"No, you're not." There was mockery in his voice, the snide sarcasm Lucifer would later perfect. "I know every angel in creation and I don't know you. There are no others with my form. So I ask again, what are you?"

"I am an angel yet to be born," she replied.

The head rose up on its slender neck and the great eyes opened wider. Trembling in fear, Raeth squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, expecting him to strike. When nothing happened she opened them again. He was still looking at her like something he wanted for dinner.

"An angel traveling in time," Lucifer surmised, curiosity painting his voice.

"Yes," she said, shortly because what else could she say with those fire red eyes watching so intently?

"And what would make you do such a thing? Come back to a time before you were even born?"

"You," she answered honestly, "I needed to talk to you."

"You can't do that in your time?"

"Heaven is very different in my time and you are…. You are in a place I can't go."

Lucifer stood up and flexed his wings briefly. The wind caused by that almost knocked her down.

"Walk with me," he said.

She fell in beside him, trotting at his heels like a kitten beside a tiger. She choked back a nervous burst of laughter when she realized Lucifer wouldn't even understand what those were.

Far behind them, Lucifer's long tail swayed lazily back and forth. The mists swirled around them. Raeth swallowed her fear. This was Lucifer before the Fall, the brother who had loved her. He was arrogant and selfish but not dangerous no matter what impression he was trying to give.

"What is it you need to talk to me about?" He asked.

"I came to ask you not to do something. There will come a time that you will make a decision that will take you to actions with dangerous consequences. I'm here asking you to think seriously when that time comes," she spoke quickly, buoyed by her memories of the brother she loved.

"You're here trying to change the time line, to change the future," he said, stunned, amused. "Why would you do that?"

A dozen reasons flashed through her mind – Sam, humanity, all the angels whose lives would be saved. But there was only reason that would matter to Lucifer.

"For you," she answered, honestly, pouring out the love she felt for him. "Because you are my beloved brother and I don't want to lose you."

"And do you lose me in the future?"

"Yes, and I can't bear it."

Lucifer stopped walking and swung around, lowering his great head to look into her eyes.

"You broke the rules and came back in time just for me?" He asked.

She nodded. Unable to look into his ancient eyes she fixed her gaze on the mark on his foreleg. He had never told her what that mark was, what it meant, or why he carried it. All she knew was that her Father had put it on Lucifer long before He had created Heaven and the rest of the angels.

Then to her shock, Lucifer threw back his head and laughed. It didn't sound mocking or sarcastic. He sounded genuinely amused. When he stopped laughing he asked,

"I don't suppose you can tell me what this terrible thing is that I am going to do?"

"You know I can't," she said, sadly, "not without risking setting the whole thing in motion by giving you the idea in the first place. I wish I could, but I have done enough already. If I am caught –"

"And you won't be able to warn me when it is happening because you won't even remember any of this, none of it will have happened for you," Lucifer mused. Then he sighed. "Go back, little one. Go back to your time."

Raeth looked at him anxiously. "You'll think about what I said? Please, brother?"

"I'll think about it," he answered.

Sensing the conversation was ended, Raeth bowed her head respectfully, backed away, lifted her wings and dissolved into the dimensions of Time.

(0)

An audience with his Father was never easy to get. Usually Lucifer didn't even bother to ask. But this time he did and was surprised to find it granted.

"What do you want, Lucifer?" The resounding voice of his Father asked. There was no physical being. It was just a Presence, all around; a Light bright and powerful beyond understanding.

"I want you to create an angel, a dragon like me, but white and gold."

"An arch angel? That will take some time."

"No, Father. Not even a Seraph. Just an angel."

"I won't make you a plaything, Lucifer," his Father said, disapprovingly.

"Not as a plaything, Father, though perhaps as a companion. There are no other dragons."

A pause in which Lucifer wanted to press his point but he knew that would lead to being rejected. He wanted this little angel because she had said she loved him. She had taken great risk for him – the risk of their Father's wrath - and there was nothing Lucifer enjoyed more than being loved.

"I suppose you'd like to name this angel, too," his Father said, indulgently.

"If I could," Lucifer said.

"Then what would you name your new companion?"

"Mystery," Lucifer answered, "Name it as your mystery - Raethaniel."

(0)


	122. Thunder and Pain

That kind of time travel took more energy than Raeth could possibly have imagined. Going to a time before she had been created had separated her temporarily from the power given to all angels through their connection to Heaven. She tumbled back into the present with the edges of her wings singed and her power completely drained. Angel Falls beckoned for its peace and the sound of the rushing water.

But before she could collapse Castiel materialized and caught her mid-fall.

"Where have you been?" He demanded.

His voice was angry and it made her shiver in spite of her exhaustion. At the same time, Castiel was rushing the healing energy of Heaven through her Grace, restoring her. Raeth closed her eyes and accepted it gratefully.

Restored, Raeth took a moment to lean against Castiel, because he was humming with frustration but hugging her tightly anyway. When she stood up finally, he left his hands on her shoulders, leaning over so they were face to face. His eyes narrowed to blue slits.

"I couldn't find you or sense you at all. Sam is frantic. We all thought you were dead!"

Though she was still reeling from her adventure, the idea of Sam being in distress was anathema to her. She focused Castiel's worried face and said,

"Is he all right?"

"I told him you'd returned and seemed fine," Castiel answered. "Are you fine?"

"I need a minute," she told him apologetically.

Slowly, Raethaniel let eons of memories spool out before her. She was searching for discrepancies, changes, minute details only she would see, huge changes that would be obvious and she had to do it now, while her old memories were still there, before they were replaced by any changes that had been made. She was desperately hoping to find that Lucifer had made another choice, a better choice.

But when she finally arrived back in the present, when her memories finally played out to the moment when she had begged Castiel for a moment's peace, nothing had changed. Her angel's heart swelled with pain and she fell forward against Castiel, bursting into disconsolate tears. It was as if a cloud had burst inside her and caught them both in a downpour.

"I'm sorry," she said, voice muffled in the layers of his clothing.

Castiel patted her awkwardly. "It's all right. You're in good company. Jacob, Joseph, David, Saul… They all wept like babies." He paused and grunted, "Mordecai used to wail and gnash his teeth, tear off all his clothes, put on sack cloth and ashes and go on about it for days…. You aren't thinking about doing that, are you?"

A choked laugh came up through the tears, enabling her to regain some control over her misery. She collected herself and straightened up.

"You want to tell me what you are so sad and sorry about?" Castiel asked, scowling at her in consternation. "What did you do?"

"Nothing apparently," she replied cryptically.

"Raethaniel," Castiel said by way of rebuke. He was losing patience and he was fresh off his confrontation with Dean. His temper was still high.

"I went to speak to Lucifer," she blurted out.

Castiel's scowl deepened. "He could hide you from me if he chose to," Cas acknowledged. "I just don't know why he would do such a thing."

Raeth shook her head. "He wasn't hiding me. I went back in time to find him, to before humans, before the Fall –"

"Before you existed," Cas exhaled sharply. "Weren't you the one warning me about rebellion not so long ago? Have you lost your senses?"

"No," Raeth answered. "I had to try and no one should know that better than you."

"Why, Raeth?" Castiel asked, shaking his head. "Why you take such a risk?"

Anger flared in her expression and tears filled her eyes like winter rain.

"Because he's my brother! He taught me everything, literally took me under his wing. Then he began to change and … and…. No one has ever tried to help him or… or stop him or understand him. Heaven has never offered one prayer for him! I know what he did. I know it was awful and I don't know why he did it or why he hates humanity so much. I don't know why Michael is so devoted to battling him to the death. Do you want to see that?" Raeth paused and acknowledged Castiel sorrow-filled head shake. "I don't want to watch my brothers tear each other apart anymore. I understand Gabriel's frustration. So I went back to before it all happened and tried to stop Lucifer."

"You told him?" Castiel sounded horrified.

"No, I didn't! I understand how time travel works, what we can't do. I didn't tell him anything."

Castiel sighed and raked the fingers of one hand through his hair. "No wonder he loved you so much. No one was ever as loyal or forgiving than you were, including this."

"I broke his heart," Raeth said with soft sadness. "When I wouldn't join him in his hatred of humanity, when I wouldn't join him in his rebellion; that broke his heart."

Annoyed Castiel snapped, "And he broke Heaven. No one forced him to do that."

Raeth started to protest but Castiel was still riding out his fury with Dean and his frustration with the entire situation. He was horrified by everything that had just transpired, sickened that he had just murdered more of his brothers, still fuming that Dean had even considered saying yes to Michael and not looking forward to having to tell Raeth all of that. He was unwilling, at the moment, to share her sympathy for Lucifer.

"No, Raeth," he said, shaking his head. "You can ask me to feel sorry for Lucifer some other time; but not now."

There was thunder and pain in Castiel's eyes and Raethaniel realized she was just seeing it for the first time. It had always been there, hidden under his worry for her. In a whisper full of trepidation she asked,

"What happened while I was gone?"

Slowly at first and then faster and faster Castiel told her about Adam and the angels and everything that had transpired, pouring out the story in a way he hoped would be cathartic: how Heaven had resurrected Adam, how dangerously close Dean had come to saying yes to Michael and how Castiel had expressed his extreme displeasure about that with his fists, how Sam's faith had finally brought Dean to his senses and everything that had taken place in Van Nuys. When he was finished, Raethaniel was staring at him in horror.

It was so much to take it that she was unable to speak for some time. When she found words it was not exactly what Cas had expected her to say.

"Dean killed Zechariah?"

Castiel nodded. For a moment the angels shared a long look at the significance of that. Raethaniel finally articulated what they were both thinking.

"He shouldn't have been able to do that, even with an angel blade."

"Angels can only be killed by another angel," Castiel replied, stating what had always been fact. "I gave him the blade for defense. I'm not sure I regret Zechariah's death. But Dean shouldn't have been able to kill him. No human should be able to do that."

"Unless you are Michael's Sword," Raeth finished for him, breathlessly.

"Or Lucifer's Fire," Castiel added. "Their souls may be contained in the most powerful vessels ever created."

She turned and walked to the edge of Angel Falls. She already knew how powerful Sam was. When she had agreed to help him learn how to contain an angel within his own vessel, it had not occurred to her that he would actually be successful. Yet his strength and determination had won.

"Where is Sam now?" She asked, staring out at the water.

"At Bobby's, with Dean. We should go. I'll need your help to search for Adam. But Sam will want to see you."

Raeth's wings lifted. "Yes," she said, "Take me to Sam."

(0)

 


	123. No Quiet Evening Storm

**This and the next chapter will tag and add missing scenes to Hammer of the Gods. This begins in the moments just before the boys pull into the parking lot of the motel.**

**(0)**

As evening fell the sky around them had blackened with rain clouds. The wind was bending over the trees without mercy. Lightening danced in the clouds. The words to Robert Browning poem he'd memorized to impress Jessica ran unbidden through Sam's head.

_The rain set early in tonight,_  
The sullen wind was soon awake,  
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,  
And did its best to vex the lake:  
I listened with heart fit to break. 

He fixed his eyes on the rain drenched windshield and tried to help Dean keep watch on the road. Very quickly, visibility was dropping to zero. Dean cursed under his breath and turned the wipers up to high.

_When glided in Porphyria; straight  
She shut the cold out and the storm,  
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate  
Blaze up and all the cottage warm_

At the time it had been romantic – a rainy evening spent in a quiet dorm room, candles lit and a fireplace video on the TV. Pizza and wine in red plastic cups at the coffee table. Jessica's laughter and warm, safe smile….

Sam inhaled sharply to break the pain in his chest and chase away the memory.

This storm was no quiet, rainy evening. This storm meant business.

It also meant they probably weren't going to make Muncie, Indiana in the next few hours as planned.

"Sam, where the hell are we?" Dean asked, white knuckling the wheel and squinting through the rain drenched glass in front of him.

"You're driving! How can you not know where we are?" Sam asked.

"I'm watching the road, not the signs. Find out where we are," Dean growled.

There was real stress in Dean's voice and since Dean was never stressed when he was just driving, Sam stopped arguing. He got his phone out and peered at the small glowing screen, punching in requests for information.

"We're about 100 miles from, believe it or not, Winchester Indiana and there is a whole lot of nothing between us and there."

"Motels? Campgrounds? Truck stops?" Dean asked. "Because if there isn't we're just going to have to pull over on the side of the road. I can't see a damned thing."

Sam was studiously scrolling through his internet connection and shaking his head. "Not even an exit until Winchester. There was a resort but it closed-" Abruptly the phone rang. "Hang on a minute, it's Raeth," he looked at the phone long enough to press the green button to answer the call, "Raeth? … Yeah I'm fine. …. Route 32 heading west to Muncie, outside of Winchester…. Yeah, Winchester, I know, right? Weird."

"Did she find Cas?" Dean asked, impatiently.

Sam didn't answer right away. He was listening intently, trying to hear over the noise of the storm. Then he glanced at Dean and shook his head, frowning. "Okay, well can you keep looking? … I know he could be anywhere but…. Yeah, I miss you too. But we need you _and_ Cas and we're really worried about him…."

Dean hit Sam in the arm suddenly to get his attention and when he got it, he pointed to lights up ahead on their right. A bright sign proclaimed the Elysian Fields Resort was just ahead, under new management. Still listening to Raeth on the phone, Sam shrugged and shook his head. He put his hand over the phone and said, "I think we should just keep driving. It looks expensive and 100 miles isn't that far. We need to try to get to Winchester. We're not going to find anything a luxury resort in the middle of-"

Sam was cut off as a bolt of lightning struck a tree in the median strip. The tree exploded in a burst of flame and sparks.

"Whoa!" Dean yelled, trying to keep the Impala on the road. Sam let out a startled cry and shielded his eyes from the flare of light. Raeth's muffled voice on the phone became louder.

" _Sam! Sam! Are you all right? SAM!"_

"I'm here! It's fine. We're just in a really bad storm. I guess we're stopping for the night." He sounded frustrated by that and Dean threw an annoyed look at him. Sam ignored it.

The Impala turned into the winding driveway, past an elaborate sign once again announcing the newly remodeled resort's grand re-opening.

"I don't know about this Dean," Sam said, peering out the windshield at the building looming up out of the storm.

"I'm not risking our necks and the car anymore tonight," Dean said, firmly. "100 miles doesn't seem far but I can barely do 30, so that's 4 more hours of driving. So, hell no."

Sam started to argue some more, even though he didn't exactly know what to say. It _felt_ wrong wasn't an argument Dean would take seriously.

But, _damn_ , it felt wrong.

" _Sam?"_

"I'm here ….Raeth?" When she didn't answer, Sam held the phone out again and checked the connection. One bar and that one blinking in and out. Maybe the resort had wi-fi that would hold up in the storm and he could still get some research done.

" _-am?"_

"Raeth!"

" _I'm here!"_

"I'm losing the signal. I'll call as soon as I can."

Sam tried to say goodbye but the phone had lost all ability to connect. He sighed and put it in his pocket.

Lightning flashed again, accompanied by a startling crash of thunder. The parking lot was surprisingly full considering there hadn't been that much traffic on the road. Sam figured everyone must have had reservations for the grand re-opening. He was curious that the sign still proclaimed 'vacancy.'

They sat for a moment after Dean shut off the engine, hoping that maybe the rain would slow enough for them to get to the front door without being drenched. But that seemed not to be.

They grabbed their bags from the floor of the backseat and jumped out into the rain.

(0)

 


	124. Hey There Little Sister

Raeth soared over Shanghai, searching for Castiel. The power he had used to banish not just himself but 4 other angels could have sent him anywhere. It had most certainly left him in very bad shape, probably unconscious and drained of energy. Since he was currently cut off from the main sources of Heaven's power, it would take Castiel a long time to regain that energy. But he was an angel and he couldn't be cut off completely, not as long as Heaven existed.

A grid search of Earth was a time consuming thing for a single angel, especially since she couldn't discount that Castiel had somehow wound up at the bottom of the Marianas Trench.

She was getting ready to move on to her next targeted search when the text message alert buzzed on her phone. Back-winging to stay in one place a quick glance showed her a single message from Sam.

_SOS_.

Without hesitation, Raeth abandoned her mission. Sam had said he was stopping for the night 100 miles west of Muncie Indiana, somewhere on Route 32. She blazed through the heavens like a comet, crossing time zones and outrunning the sun.

There was only one building lit up in the storm and Raeth dove for it. She felt a surge of satisfaction when she saw the Impala in the parking lot, gleaming in the watery light. Drawing her angel blade she prepared to materialize inside the resort….

When something seized her from the air and she found herself, unbelievably, in a dank basement. As she landed, a ring of holy fire burst up, surrounding her. Anger flared up with it, mingled with shock as she stared into the eyes of her wayward brother.

"Gabriel!"

"Hey, there little sister," he said with a grin she wanted to wipe off his face with her claws and with a voice like a disapproving parent. "Just where do you think you're going?"

She was too outraged to speak for a moment. He was an archangel, her brother and usually she was glad to see him. But at the moment his smug smirk and cavalier attitude were not welcome. "To save Sam! Gabriel, let me go. Sam is in trouble."

Gabriel snorted. "He's a Winchester! When is he not in trouble? Let me handle this, okay?"

Raeth pulled in her anger and tried to think calmly. Eyes narrowed and gleaming blue/gold light she asked, "Why? What's going on?"

"You don't know exactly what kind of trouble he's in," Gabriel answered, "and I do."

"Then explain it to me," she said, tightly.

"There's a crap ton of demi-gods up there, some of the real heavy hitters – Odin, Baldur, Zao Shen, Ganesh and, worst of all, Kali the Destroyer."

Raeth shook her head, mystified. "What do they want with Sam and Dean?"

"Well that's kind of the thing. Even they don't know. But I think they want to use them to bargain with Michael and Lucifer over putting an end to the apocalypse."

"That's crazy!" Raeth cried. "Michael and Lucifer will wipe them off the face of the Earth and just take Sam and Dean. We have to go in there and get them and we have to do it now."

"Kali has them under a blood spell. They are bound to her presence at the moment. I think they die if we try to take them, which isn't a big deal since Heaven will just send them back. But it also wouldn't be a good idea for them to be seen by Heaven because the Top Two are getting a little impatient with this whole free will thing. Dean just royally pissed everyone off upstairs and they've gone to plan B. But you do _not_ want them to find Sam again."

"Then let me out of here and I'll go knock Kali into another dimension and we'll take the boys somewhere safe."

"No, I can't let you do that. That's Kali the Destroyer and while I'm pretty sure you can take her – and I could make a sweet fortune selling tickets to that Grudge Match – there won't be anything left for miles when the two of you are done."

Exasperated, Raeth cried, "Gabriel, why do you even care about any of this? Why are you even here? This isn't something you usually worry about at all! What's in there that's so important to you? It's not Sam or Dean. You'll never convince me of that. The only things in there are gods -" She stopped abruptly and inhaled.

Gabriel ducked his head and looked away.

"It's Kali," she stated with no hesitation. "You're here to protect _Kali_. Gabriel, why?"

He turned back to her. He spread his hands in a 'what are you going to do' gesture. "We were together for a long time."

"Kali the Destroyer?" Raeth repeated, incredulous. "And an Archangel? Heavenly _Father,_ Gabriel!"

"Hey, let's leave Dad out of this," Gabriel said, with a spark of his old fire. "Once upon a time she only destroyed evil. She was the Divine Protector, the giver of freedom and her people adored her. They still do. Half of what they say about her isn't even true but you know how legends grow into myths," Gabriel paused and got some of his old bluster back. "She kicked me out for the milquetoast Shiva. Can you believe that? Spent a whole lot of time standing on the poor sap. But that doesn't mean she deserves to be turned into jelly. They're just trying to find a way to survive this mess."

"Then they've picked the wrong way," Raeth snarled. "Let me out of here so I can go get Sam and be done with all this."

"Just let me try talking to her first," Gabriel pleaded. "I don't think any of them realize what a dangerous game this is. If they contact Lucifer…. The mood he's in…" He paused and gave her a meaningful look full of trepidation. A slight shiver ran over his slender frame and Raeth knew it wasn't pretense.

"If you want to talk to her, I can't exactly stop you, can I?" She growled at him.

"Don't be cross," Gabriel said, pouting at her a little. "Still love me?"

"Only if you get Sam out of there safely," she threatened.

Gabriel frowned, "You don't mean that!"

"Gabriel! Please go help Sam!"

"All right. All right. Keep your feathers on. I'll be right back."

"And if this doesn't work, you'll let me out of here."

He hesitated but then nodded and vanished, leaving Raeth fuming, trapped in a circle of holy flames.

(0)

 


	125. Plan B

The flames were still high and crackling purposefully when Gabriel finally flashed back into existence in front of her. Raeth had felt as if she was losing her sanity. He had been gone much longer than she had anticipated.

"What happened?" She demanded. "Where is Sam?"

Disheveled but still wearing his cocky grin, Gabriel said, "That did not go as well as I had hoped. So Plan B – we're grab the Winchesters and Kali and we skip town; or at least you do."

Raeth was quickly running out of patience. But there was little she could do against an archangel.

"What do you mean? Are you letting me out of here?"

"Yes, but there's going to be some ground rules first and I need your promise that you'll obey me."

"You can't order me to abandon Sam," she began.

"Raethaniel!" Gabriel raised his voice in what could only be considered authority. "I may be the black sheep of the family and a runaway but I am still an archangel and you are still in my chain of command. I'm going to let you go but you are going to do exactly what I tell you."

Deviance flashed in her expression, surprising even her. Disobedience was not the way of angels.

She'd learned a lot from Sam Winchester.

"What's going on?" Raeth asked, quietly and with great trepidation.

"Lucifer is coming," Gabriel told her.

"Then let me talk to him!"

"No. Absolutely not."

"But he might listen to me. We have a connection. We always did and now I know why. Let me try talking to him. Gabriel, please."

Gabriel was shaking his head. "No, he won't listen, Raeth. He didn't listen to you before he rebelled and he won't now. Whatever twisted him is still working and all that time Caged didn't help. I'm not even sure he's still sane. It's more likely he'll take one look at you, ask you why you haven't brought Sam to him and then end you with the blink of an eye. I won't let that happen."

"You… _you_ won't," Raeth stammered. Fear gripped her heart. "Gabriel, are you… are you going to confront Lucifer?"

"I'm not going to let him have Kali, or you, or the Winchesters for that matter," he said, grimly, "and I'm the only one left who is still his equal."

"What's happened to you?" Raeth asked. "When did you start caring?"

He gave her a mocking smile. "I told you. Winchester-it is. It makes you do the stupidest things even if they're a good idea at the time. So are you going to listen to me or not?"

"You can't leave me in here if Lucifer is coming. You don't want him to find me," Raeth surmised.

"Yes," he agreed, "but _you_ want to rescue Sam Winchester and I want you to help me get Kali out of here, which you kind of have to do since she's still got Sam under a blood spell and there isn't time to break it. So what's it going to be? You do this my way or I send you into a dimension so far away it will take you a hundred years to get back?"

"You _wouldn't_ ," Raeth whispered, outraged.

Gabriel grinned and waggled his eyebrows at her, holding up his hand to snap his fingers.

"All right!" She said, "What do you want me to do?"

"Go to the parking lot and wait in the car." He held up a hand to stave off the protest that rose up in her eyes. "When I get Sam and Dean loose that's the first place they will go. So you wait for them there. If Kali is with them, and she will be, you have to take her too. Get on the road and then zap them all somewhere far from here – Beijing, Honolulu, Homer, the moon. Just get them far away before Lucifer can track them down. You got that?"

"Car, then fly them far away."

" _Far_ away," Gabriel emphasized.

"Is Mars out of the question?" Raeth asked, sarcastically.

"Pluto isn't out of the question," Gabriel shot back. He started to say something else but there was a sudden tremor in the air, like a cry of despair heard in the distance. The quiet that followed was like the stillness after breaking glass. Gabriel looked inward and then closed his eyes in resignation. "He's here."

The flames around her died but Raeth was shaking too hard to step out immediately. Gabriel reached in, grabbed her hand and pulled her over the burnt ring on the floor.

"Parking lot. Now!" He told her.

"Gabriel, be careful," Raeth begged, suddenly terrified for him. She'd lost so many of her brothers and sisters to this current madness. Intent on rescuing Sam, she was just realizing that Gabriel was in very real danger. She clutched his arms with both hands.

"I will." He nodded, watching her intently. Then, irritated, he waved a hand dismissively. "Go!"

They vanished in the same instance.

When Raeth appeared in the parking lot, a dismal rain was still falling, as if the water in the heavens had been left running. As she went to the Impala she saw that the door of the resort was still open. The spiked end of a gigantic tail – the color of ember and ashes – was slipping through the crack. It snaked inside and disappeared from view. The door hesitated and then slid shut with a final click.

Raeth stared after it, chilled to the center of her being.

_Lucifer…._

(0)

 


	126. Caribou Maine

Raeth waited until Dean had cleared the parking lot, tires squealing and gravel flying, before she materialized in the backseat beside Kali. The goddess let out a startled gasp, alerting Sam. He turned to see what was wrong and burst out in relief, "Raeth!"

"Yes, I'm here," she said, "We're not out of trouble yet. Dean, no matter what happens next just keep driving straight."

"Why? What's going to—Shit!"

The landscape around them changed abruptly. It was dawn and they were on a completely different road.

"Dammit, Raeth, warn me when you're going to do that!"

"She did," Sam pointed out. But he was pale and looked no happier about the sudden transportation than Dean did.

"Where are we?" Dean demanded.

"Just off HWY 1 in Maine, near Caribou," she answered.

"That explains why it's daylight," Dean observed drily.

"Dean, pull over," Raeth said, "We have unfinished business."

Dean found the shoulder of the road and let the Impala roll to a stop. They climbed out and found themselves on a deserted road, nothing but trees and grass on either side and nothing as far as they could see.

Raeth stumbled and let out a sharp little cry as she exited the car. She caught the door with one hand and hung on, looking stricken. Sam looked at her anxiously.

"What?" He asked, hesitantly. He knew the answer. He just didn't want to hear her say it.

"Gabriel," she whispered.

Dean closed his eyes, leaned on the hood of the car and shook his head. Sam stared at Raeth, his chest aching and tears stinging the back of his eyes.

Kali spoke, low and tight, in a way that showed she was used to being obeyed.

"Let me go."

She was looking at Raethaniel, daggers in her gaze. It was then that the brothers realized Raeth must have been holding Kali all this time. Why else would the goddess still be here at all?

Raeth stalked towards Kali with menace in each step. Black shadowed wings rose against the landscape. Her mouth was set, rigid. Her back was like a stone column.

"My brother just died for you," the angel's words were ice and fire. "The only reason I haven't burned you to ash is because he wouldn't have wanted me to. Release Sam and Dean."

Kali's face set hard, eyes narrowed. A blue mist rose up to shine around Raethaniel.

"End the spell," Raeth ordered.

"Or what you'll kill me and Sam and Dean along with me?" Kali sneered.

"End the spell or I will turn you to stone and drop you into the bottom of the ocean," Raeth was speaking barely above a whisper. It was the most deadly sound Sam had ever heard, "or I'll just kill you outright and let Heaven bring back Sam and Dean. Let them go and I let you live."

Sam knew how angry Raeth was, but he was always one to try using a carrot before he grabbed a stick.

"Raeth," he said, softly, using his tone to rein her in. She looked at him – still powerful, still an angel, but what he saw in her eyes was raw pain, fragile as a sugar sculpture. He held her gaze until he knew she was willing to back down. Then he turned to Kali.

Soft-voiced, reasonable, with the gentle expression that would have had juries eating out of his hand in a different life, he said, "What are you going to do with us? You want to call down Lucifer again? I think we saw how well that turned out. Michael? I doubt he cares. He already has our half-brother. So just let us go and we'll all go our separate ways."

Angry and backing down with great reluctance, Kali opened her palm to reveal the two vials of blood. Irritation flashed across Dean's face. Sam sent him a sharp look to quell it. The brothers shared a brief, silent conversation. In that time, the vials in Kali's hand burst into flame, melted and then vanished.

"You're free," she said, flatly.

"Let her go, Raeth," Sam pleaded. "This needs to be over before anyone else dies."

Raeth was deep in a pit of grief – for Gabriel, for Lucifer. But something in Sam's voice made her look up at him as if she was seeing him for the first time since they had gotten in the car.

Sam was miserable – guilt and pain etched every line of his face. With a pang in her heart Raeth remembered how much Sam blamed himself for all this, for starting the Apocalypse, for every death and piece of destruction since then. He knew exactly how she felt about Gabriel dying and he could easily imagine how much more horrible it was that he had died at the hands of another brother.

Sam was taking all of it on his shoulders and collapsing under the weight.

Raeth lifted a hand and addressed Kali. "If you so much as whisper their names, I'll know and I will find you." Then she flicked her hand in a dismissive gesture and said, "Be gone."

There was a snap in the chilly air and Kali evaporated.

She had barely disappeared when Dean yanked out his phone, dialed Bobby and stalked off a few feet from the Impala to talk.

"Bobby? Yeah. We're in Maine… I know we were in Indiana. Now we're in Maine and we need a place to crash… Nope, not going to check in anywhere right now. I'll explain later, but just, no motels, inns, resorts, hotels and or bed and breakfast joints….. Yeah, we're near Caribou, northeast Maine." Dean held the phone casually against his ear, waiting. Sam watched him anxiously. After a moment, he said, "Yep. Okay. Where is it? …. Yeah, we'll find it, or we'll call you back. Thanks, Bobby."

He hung up and told Sam, "There's a safe house about 40 miles north of Caribou. Bobby says it should have everything but food. What do we still have?"

"My phone," Sam said, sounding dazed and distracted, "My wallet. Our duffel bags and stuff and my laptop, they're all still back in Indiana."

"I'll go get them," Raeth said.

Sam grabbed her arm, fingers tightening. "Don't. It might be dangerous."

Raeth smiled sadly. "I'm sure Lucifer is long gone. He doesn't do well with being thwarted. But I'll be careful. I… I need to see Gabriel. I need to make certain his vessel is cared for, treated with respect."

Sam understood the need to care for her brother, but he nodded with reluctance.

"Please be careful. Can someone go with you?"

"No, I'll do this myself. I'll be back, Sam. I promise. It might just take a little longer than usual. Just wait for me here, please? So I can find you again."

She went with the sound of sails in the wind, leaving Sam and Dean on a deserted road in Maine.

The brothers stood almost breathless and silent, caught in that odd place between running for their lives and the fight being done. Sam knew that Dean especially had a hard time letting go, transitioning from danger to safety.

"We still have your laptop," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah? So?" Dean asked.

"Let's find out if it's still working. I haven't cleaned off all your porn viruses in a while. Then we can load the DVD Gabriel left us and find out what's so important," Sam suggested.

Dean considered it and then shrugged. "Yeah. Let's do that," he said.

(0)


	127. Even the Stars Wept

The resort was abandoned, as Raeth had expected. What she had not expected was that it had been abandoned for quite some time. There was no sign of the bright and new place it had been just a few short minutes ago. It was in a state of extreme disrepair and neglect. She could feel the presence of spirits who now haunted the place- the souls of those who had died here so recently and so violently. Frightened, they shifted away into other dimensions as she began to walk the deserted halls. She would tell Sam about them. He would tell Bobby and hopefully a sympathetic hunter would come and send the ghosts on their way.

She nodded, briefly to the frustrated Reapers waiting by the sagging front door. They nodded back and returned to patiently waiting. Raeth moved on. Her sympathy for the lost souls wandering the Elysian Fields did not mean she could interfere with the Reapers.

It occurred to her – too late – that she should have asked Sam exactly where their things were.

She had no idea where Gabriel might be lying. She had never been inside anything but the basement.

Sadly, like a lost soul herself, Raeth walked the halls and empty rooms, searching. She felt numb, as if she had been battling a storm for too long and had nothing left to give. Sorrow walked with her.

She went room to room at first, not believing that Gabriel and Lucifer had gone to war in a small motel room and trying to put off finding her brother's brother as long as possible. Her method paid off when she found Sam and Dean's bags and all their things new and shiny in a place with tattered drapes and cobwebs hanging in the corners. She gathered everything in a single sweep of her hand and left it on the bed.

With nothing else to delay the inevitable, she went in search of Gabriel.

She found him in the ruin of a conference room, lying still, eyes staring straight up and the image of his beautiful wings scorched into the tattered carpet. The silence in the room was complete. The calm at the end of the storm surrounded them. Raeth looked away, up, through a gaping hole in the ceiling. The night sky above her was one of the most incredible things she had ever seen. This far out into the country, without lights or moon to spoil it, the sky was ebony-black with a bright spill of sparkling stars. The band called the Milky Way arched over her.

There was an almost constant fall of flashing meteors and while Raeth knew that they were, it seemed to her that even the stars wept for her brother.

Behind her came the sudden sound of snapping wings. Raeth spun with her angel blade magically appearing in her hand, crouched in defense.

"Peace, Raeth," Lamechiel said. "It's just me."

"Mecca," she exhaled, vanishing her blade and standing upright. "What are you doing here?"

"I was sent to retrieve our brother," he answered.

Raeth lifted her eyebrows in question. Mecca shrugged.

"I was in his chain of command. I asked," he continued to explain. "Heaven is in mourning and there is a truce of sorts in place. If you need anything there, this would be a good time to go."

Raeth shook her head. "I felt the truce. I can feel the peace, though there is a undercurrent of hostility. So many angels still do not want this war."

"So many have died," Mecca agreed sadly.

"Do you think this can be avoided?" Raeth asked, "Perhaps Gabriel's death will make some kind of difference?"

Mecca smiled as if he was already crushed by disappointment. "If anything the howling for Lucifer's head will grow louder and more strident now. His easy defeat of Gabriel has stirred up more fear than I have ever seen in Heaven."

Raeth shook her head. "Gabriel wasn't defeated."

"What?"

"You didn't know him at the end," Raeth answered, "Gabriel had stopped running. He had finally chosen a side and it wasn't Michael's. It was humanity's. Gabriel knew that a true fight between him and Lucifer would be no better than a battle between Lucifer and Michael. The destruction it would have caused would have obliterated much of humanity. Gabriel sacrificed himself so that Sam and Dean could escape. Gabriel bought them time, with his life."

Aghast, Mecca asked, "Why would he do that?"

"He had his reasons," Raeth answered, cryptically. "I won't betray his privacy by telling you more."

It was then that the pain truly began for Raethaniel. Gabriel had died protecting Sam, something she was supposed to do. She felt suddenly wracked by grief. She glanced down at her trim and capable hands, then further down at the toes of her boots. She was still standing. It just felt as if she had been struck down.

"Raeth?" Lamechiel asked.

"I'm fine. I just… will miss him so dreadfully." She inhaled the crisp cold air blowing in through the cracks in the building. Though she didn't need to breathe, she hoped it would clear away her distress.

"I'll take care of him," he said. "You should go back to Sam. He needs you."

She nodded. "Thank you, Mecca."

She lifted up on strong wings, gathered Sam and Dean's things to her and fled the resort for the second time that night.

Sam and Dean were exactly where she had left them, leaning on the car. The new light was flooding the landscape with colors, interspersed in mist, peach and red and yellow. Trees stood like frozen smoke, shifting shape in the rising fog.

Sam straightened when he saw her, feet and shoulders braced, lean, tall and broad, powerful. The emotion in his eyes stunned her with its intensity. Sam knew. He understood without words what it felt like to lose a brother; how it felt to have a brother sacrifice everything for him.

There was something else in Sam's gaze, a sad realization, a painful knowledge. At the moment, Raeth didn't want to know what it meant.

Her heart aching, eyes filling with tears, Raeth dropped their bags into the dust and walked straight into his outstretched arms.

(o)


	128. Sad Sweet Song

Continuing the tag to Hammer of the Gods. It's a little long but I like those in between moments when Sam and Dean stop running and just survive.

(0)

They stopped in Caribou at a Save-A-Lot and gotten groceries, breakfast and coffee. The brothers were too tired to even argue about the food. Sam tossed frozen pizza and taquitos into the cart right next to the fresh tilapia and asparagus and didn't say a word; though he did wait for Dean to head off to the beer aisle to exchange the orange juice for an organic, sweetener-free one. He added a few gallons of water too, since he wasn't about to drink whatever came out of the pipes of the safe house. Bobby had given them vague directions and told them they were looking for an old single wide in the middle of nowhere, near a small lake. Sam knew what they were in for – 1970s décor, chipped paint, bad paneling, orange shag carpeting, avocado appliances….

He sighed and put bags of apples and potatoes in the cart next to the blueberry pie.

One more stop to put gas in the Impala and fill up 2 gas cans for the generator they expected to find at the safe house and they were on the road.

The drive to the safe house took much longer than they expected, mostly because all the dirt roads looked alike and the directions were even vaguer when they tried to actually follow them.

They found the house and it was everything Sam had expected – a long narrow metal box with rust streaked siding and a sagging screen door. Dean peered at it through the windshield and then turned off the Impala, shaking his head.

"Of course," he muttered.

In sync as always, the brothers went to work soundlessly. They got tools from the lower compartment of the trunk. Then Dean went to the generator and Sam found the propane tank. Sam checked the propane and found it almost three-quarters full, so he turned it on. He was surprised when the valve only stuck for a moment and then turned easily. A low hum told him it was working.

Dean did not have the same luck with the generator. A few minutes spent cursing were wasted and then he went back to the car for the larger tool box.

"I'll take the food in," Sam said, since he knew he'd be no help at all with something mechanical. You want a sandwich or something?"

Dean only grunted as he took the panel off the side to look at the motor. Sam took it for a yes.

He carried as many bags as he could into the house, coughing at the stale air, frowning at the general shabbiness. But it would do. They wouldn't be there that long.

Sam missed Raeth. While she was cautious with miracles, she didn't mind conjuring up food or getting a generator to work if the boys were exhausted; and he just missed her presence.

And Sam was exhausted. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept.

But Raeth had heard the angels singing a lament to Gabriel and gone to join them. She had left reluctantly, in spite of Sam's encouragement. She had placed her hand against Sam's ear and let him hear a piece of their chorus. He had never heard a sound so beautiful in all of his life – so sweet it brought tears to his eyes. After that, how could he have asked her to stay? He had leaned over to press his forehead to hers, eyes closed, taking her head between his palms and using his thumbs to brush away the tears of an angel.

"Go," he said, softly, "Be with your family."

Promising to return as soon as she could, Raeth had lifted her wings and melted away.

A sudden noise brought Sam out of his thoughts – an engine sputtering to life and Dean's triumphant , "Yeah!" Behind him the ancient fridge rattled in response. Sam tried a light switch and it came on. He heard the hiss and bang of the water heater waking up. He opened the kitchen faucet and, after a moment of murky rust-colored water, it ran clear.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't going to be too horrible.

Dean came in with a load of firewood in his arms and wordlessly went to the wood stove to get them some heat.

Sam had finished making two basic roast beef sandwiches by the time Dean had the fire going. He tossed a bag of barbecue chips next to Dean's sandwich, along with a bottle of beer. Then he hooked a foot around one of the rusted metal kitchen chairs, pulled it up to the Formica and metal table and sat down. He waited for Dean to make a crack about the whole wheat bread but it never came. Dean was eating as if he was in a daze, not really seeing what it was.

Sam relaxed, ate his sandwich and munched apple chips. That was when the exhaustion truly hit. Eating, drinking, getting warm and feeling safe, Sam finally felt as if he had been on his feet for 48 hours. The reality of having been only a few feet from Lucifer himself was also catching up. As he came down from his adrenaline rush, he started shake.

"You okay?" Dean asked, gruffly.

"Yeah," Sam breathed. "Just… you know," he paused and shrugged, smiled weakly.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I know. What do you think the beds are like?"

"I didn't look. I'll just roll my sleeping bag out. I'm beat."

Sam finished eating, wadded up the used napkin and the empty bottle of water and put them in a grocery bag. He rolled the rest of the apple chips closed and set them on the counter.

Dragging his feet, Sam went out to the Impala, opened the trunk, reached into the lower compartment and pulled out two sleeping bags. They hadn't been used in a while and smelled a little musty but they were still going to be better than whatever was on the beds.

By the time he got back in, Dean had cleaned up after his own meal. He caught the rolled up bundle Sam threw him and, without bothering to check the rest of the single-wide, he unfurled it on the floor of the adjacent living room and laid down on top of it. Sam did the same, falling still fully clothed onto the downy surface, face down, arms pillowing his head.

In an instant, they were both sound asleep.

(0)

Succulent smells woke Sam. He still felt tired, but he'd had enough sleep to take the edge off.

And a roast beef sandwich and apple chips would never be enough to fill him up for long. He might eat healthy but the quantities he needed every day hadn't changed much since he teen-aged growth spurt.

He awoke to a solid rumble in his stomach and the smells of coffee and something with seasoning cooking. He sat up, blinking, stretching to work the kink out of his back. Then he glanced into the kitchen expecting to see Dean.

But it was Raeth. For a brief moment Sam thought he saw a pair of massive wings rising up behind her, translucent, shimmering. She was humming quietly and he caught small pieces of the sad, sweet song the angel had sung. She was scraping something into a pot of boiling water. The steam rose up and surrounded her in a soft mist.

A quick glance to his left showed him that Dean was still asleep.

For the moment, all seemed right with the world.

He got up with all his sore muscles protesting. His scalp itched. His eyes were gritty and his mouth was coated and dry. He hadn't changed clothes in 2 days, which was by no means a Winchester record but he wasn't interested in beating his personal best right now.

He stumbled over to Raethaniel on legs that seemed to have forgotten how they worked.

"Hey," he said, and then added unnecessarily, "You're back."

"Yes," she agreed, dropping cut up pieces of potato into a pot of water on the stove.

"And you're cooking?" Sam went on, slowly.

"Yes."

Sam waved a hand vaguely in the air, "Couldn't you have just…?"

"Yes," she said, again, "I could have. I just wanted something to do. There was a cookbook in the cabinet and you brought food so…."

"Dinner?" Sam asked hopefully. The idea of an actual homemade meal was beyond appealing.

"Somethings called meatloaf," Raeth said, "It didn't look too hard and you had all the ingredients."

"Mashed potatoes?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

Sam groaned with pleasure and leaned over to place a kiss on the top of her head.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

She shrugged and looked over her shoulder to share a sad smile with him. "As well I can be," she said, "I'd like to stay with you tonight if I can."

Sam leaned over farther and hid his face in her hair. He closed his eyes.

"I'd like that," he whispered.

Then he straightened up. "I'd also really like a shower."

Raeth turned around then. "I may be cooking dinner the mortal way, but I put clean towels in the bathroom and did something about the nasty beds. New mattresses, clean sheets and blankets…"

"Thank you," Sam said.

Raeth smiled at him again and picked up another potato to peel. Sam snagged his duffel from the floor and went to the broom-closet sized bathroom. A moment later she heard the sound of the water running.

(0)


	129. Not Tonight

The same smells eventually woke Dean. He did the same gradual waking as Sam, taking in his surroundings, sizing up the situation, grunting against sore muscles. He didn't bother making obvious statements about what Raeth was doing or ask where Sam was when he could clearly hear the shower running . He just looked at Raeth for a second and then got a beer out of the fridge.

"You want some help?" He asked.

"I was going to make salads," Raeth answered.

"I'll just make one for Sam," Dean replied.

"You don't eat salad?" Raeth asked.

"Not at the top of the food chain."

He busied himself getting the stuff from the fridge, found a bowl and wiped it out with his sleeve. Then he took up a position next to Raeth at the counter and started chopping lettuce.

"You doing okay?" Dean asked after a bit. His voice sounded dry, rusty.

"Yes," she answered. "Seeing my family united helped, even if it was just united in grief. It won't last. Even now the factions are splintering again. But it helped."

Dean drew out the silence for a little bit longer while he put the lettuce away and threw a handful of small tomatoes in the bowl. Then he asked, without making eye contact.

"Is there a chance he could come back? Gabriel? Like Cas did?"

"Be recreated you mean?" She asked.

Dean nodded.

"I doubt it; not if our Father isn't involved anymore," Raeth's voice was hushed, reverent. "An angel…. It's possible Michael has enough power to bring back an angel. He was the first. He is 'as God'. Angels aren't supposed to create. Re-creating is another matter. But we are not allowed to bring things into being. But the archangels are different. It would be like relighting a candle compared to reigniting a sun."

Dean nodded. "Okay."

Raeth studied him with a puzzled frown. "Gabriel did not always treat you kindly, Dean. Even I haven't forgiven him for what he put you and Sam through. Why would you be concerned about him being brought back?"

Dean finished Sam's salad before he attempted to answer. Raeth could feel his hesitation.

"I talked to Gabriel right before …. Before he confronted Lucifer," Dean said, finally.

"And you think you might be the reason Gabriel is dead now?" Raeth guessed.

Dean nodded again, though only slightly. Raeth turned her head slightly to regard him. Her charge was Sam, but that didn't mean that Dean had not worked his way into her heart at all. In his body language, in the bow of his head and his averted eyes, Raeth saw guilt. Dear, tortured Dean, who had been raised with the weight of someone's survival on his slender young shoulders. If there was one thing the Winchesters knew it was guilt. It didn't even have to make sense sometimes and yet they still embraced it. It gnawed away at them and they both bore the scars of it.

She stunned him by letting out a little laugh and shaking her head. She reached over and gently placed a hand on his cheek for a moment. "Oh, Dean. Don't give yourself so much power. No one ever talked Gabriel into doing anything he didn't want to do. When he ran away and hid he was just as much – if not more – of a rebel as Lucifer," she paused and shook her head again, this time sadly, "No, Dean. You had nothing to do with it. It was his decision and no one else's."

Dean seemed to consider that for a long time. When he looked at her his eyes were a shadowed glen, dark green.

He put the salad stuff away and got another beer. Raeth didn't remember seeing him finish the first one but it was, indeed, gone. He turned around and leaned on the refrigerator.

"I'm sorry he's gone," Dean said. He shrugged. "He was your brother, warts and all."

"Yes he was," Raeth smiled sadly.

They were prevented from saying anything else when the bathroom door creaked open. A blast of steam poured out, soap and shaving cream scented. Sam walked out of the mist, shirtless, sheened in moisture, hair plastered to his head like a wet seal.

"Finally," Dean said, pushing off the fridge and draining the beer. He snagged his bag and pushed past Sam into the bathroom "Hot water?"

"Maybe. It was still hot but I don't know how much is still in there. Fan's broken."

Dean made a sound of acknowledgement and shut the door.

Sam started roughly toweling his hair.

"God, that smells good!" He said.

"Dinner you mean?" Raeth asked

"Yes." He finished with the towel and pulled a t-shirt over his head. "Do you want help?"

"The potatoes need to be mashed," she answered.

Sam inhaled for a moment. It was such a simple, normal thing….. No one to save, nothing to run from. For the moment no crisis and no reason to show Raethaniel the video of her brother, the one with the answer.

The answer that would seal his fate.

"I can do that," he said.

(0)

The boys ate like they were starving, without looking up, hardly pausing for breath; without speaking except to tell her it was good. Both encouraged her to eat, even though they also both knew she would decline. They'd been raised by a Marine and good manners were drilled in. Raeth watched them eat with a bemused expression. Then Lamechiel called her and she vanished again for a while.

When she returned, dinner was cleaned up and the boys were in the tiny living room. Sam was on the dilapidated couch and Dean was in the rooms rusty Lazy-Boy. There were weapons all over the room, as if they had brought in everything from the Impala's considerable arsenal. Dean was cleaning his gun handling the way he might handle a lover but with more tenderness. Sam had a lethal knife with the handle removed, wiping away blood that had slipped inside the cracks and become encrusted. Sam's laptop was open and there was an action movie playing. Raeth knew it was an action movie because of the sound of gunfire coming from it.

She moved a handful of knives to the battered coffee table so she could sit downnext to Sam.

"Can I help?" She asked.

Sam handed her a knife and a screwdriver.

"Take them apart. Check inside for dirt, rust, blood, lint."

"Clean them out in other words."

"Yeah."

Raeth could have waved a hand and cleaned everything in the room. But she sensed that Sam and Dean needed to do this. It was part of their training, part of their very purpose. They had slept enough to stave off exhaustion. They had eaten something hot and home cooked. Now they needed something to help them take the rest of the edge off.

If violent movies and cleaning weapons could actually be soothing somehow….

"What did Lamechiel want?"

"Making sure I was still all right," Raeth said, mildly. "He's going to help look for Castiel."

Dean looked up sharply. "Is that going to get him in trouble?"

"He said that Michael's faction in Heaven seems to be sharply focused on something else at the moment."

Sam and Dean exchanged a grim look. Adam. It had to be.

Dean went back to his gun.

"Tell him we said thanks."

Raeth inclined her head in acknowledgment.

They worked in silence, letting the movie play out to the end. Then they gathered the arsenal and carried it back out to the car. Using flashlights and the dim porch light they put everything back where it belonged.

Dean closed the trunk with a satisfied slam. He and Sam locked eyes again briefly and held the silent conversation until it reached a conclusion.

"I'm going to bed," Dean announced.

"Good night," Raeth offered.

Sam reexamined where he was – leaning back against the car with his ankles crossed - as Dean went back into the house. Raeth waited with him.

"Are you tired now?" She asked.

Sam shook his head. In the artificial light he was bathed mostly in shadow. His cheekbones and forehead were sharp lines. His eyes were completely hidden.

There was a determined set to his chin and the way his lips were a single, thin line. His arms were folded over his chest.

Raethaniel understood that something was about to change. Sam had reached a conclusion, made a decision and was going to act on it. There was a sense of purpose that had been lacking before. Raeth could see it even in his current relaxed position. He was no longer seeking. He was no longer conflicted.

Something had changed.

Apprehension trickled down her spine like ice water.

Sam pushed off the Impala and stood up. He held out his hand to her.

"I need to show you something," he said.

Back in the house he rummaged around in his duffel bag and pulled out a DVD case. Raeth's eyebrows lifted when she saw the title.

"We're going to watch porn?" She asked.

Sam huffed out a short laugh. "No. It's, umm, a message…. From your brother."

"Gabriel?" Raeth blurted.

He put the disc in his laptop and motioned her to come sit on the couch with him.

"You're surprised?" He asked, as she settled close beside him.

"I guess not," she replied, with a soft, sad, indulgent smile.

Sam put a comforting arm around her and started the DVD playing. As the opening played she managed to laugh a little.

"Oh my brother," she whispered.

"Shhh," Sam murmured, "Listen."

When Gabriel began speaking directly into the camera, Raeth became very still. By the time he had finished and Sam shut off the remainder of the show Raeth understood what his decision had been.

Sam knew how to take control of Lucifer.

Sam knew how to re-open the Cage.

It wasn't, as they said rocket science.

She turned and met his sweet, rain-gray eyes. Sam leaned forward and put his forehead against hers. He felt heavy suddenly, as if he had been carrying a burden alone and was now able to lay it down, to give it to someone else. His breath was warm when he sighed and closed those eyes.

For a long time there were no words. Understanding flowed between them like water from the cracks of a damn about to break. She felt his tears, trapped behind his closed eyes, making his throat tight and thick.

His fingers found hers and began moving – twining together and then sliding apart, exploring and searching.

Raeth touched her lips to his in a gesture that was tender and uncertain. She had no idea how to comfort Sam when her heart was slowly tearing into tissue-thin pieces.

"I'm going to lose you, aren't I?" She whispered.

Sam swallowed and pressed his forehead closer to hers. It took him a moment to find his voice. He let go of her hand and brought his up to cup her face, dwarfing it. She turned to kiss his palm. He brushed her hair back with his fingertips and kissed the corner of her mouth.

"Not tonight," he answered in a soft hush. He moved to gather her more fully in his arms, bringing her closer. "Not tonight."

(0)


	130. I'm A Little Busy, Dean

Missing scenes of the The Devil You Know. It opens just as Dean is being locked in the room by Sam.

(0)

Raeth pivoted on her left foot and blocked her opponent's oncoming angel blade with a sweep of her own, low and to the right.

"Raethaniel, don't do this. Don't make me kill you."

The angel facing her was Atrugiel – one of the prince-angels of the Seventh Heaven, one of the most able bladesmen of his Flight, battle-hardened. The rest of his Flight was fanned out and engaged with a host of angels that had stormed the Seventh Heaven, intent on freeing Adam Milligan.

Raeth danced effortlessly backward, blond hair flying, blade at the ready. Atrugiel was skilled. But she had been trained by Lucifer himself.

"Then give us Adam and we'll be gone," Raeth demanded, "There is no need for anyone to die."

Raising his blade and plunging forward Atrugiel said, "You know we cannot!"

Raeth ignored the incoming blade and arced a cut in towards his left shoulder. Atrugiel was forced to break off his attack to come up and block her, high and left. Raeth anticipated his response and swept down a blow at Atrugiel's left leg.

His blade batted hers away.

She was regrouping when her phone rang.

Raeth ground her teeth together and ducked a blow that would have separated her right side from her left.

It rang again. She raised her hand to block another swipe coming in from her right. The blades sparked, light exploded as they slid against each other.

The ringtone was the one Sam had set for Dean. She ignored it one more time and then put her blade in her right hand so she could get the phone out of her back pocket. At the same time she pressed forward, snapping her blade in an overhand cut. She picked up her speed as she did, forcing Atrugiel backward.

She pushed the phone button and held it up to her ear.

"What!?" She snapped.

"Raeth?" Dean's voice.

"Yes!"

"I need you."

He said something else but Raeth ignored him, choosing to focus on staying alive for the moment.

Continuing her forward press, Raeth flipped her angel blade around in her hand and hammered a blow to Atrugiel's chest. At the same time she hooked her right leg behind his and dumped him on the ground.

Lifting her wings she put distance between them.

"Is Sam all right?" She demanded, as she landed.

"No!" Dean shouted. "Well, yes. But he's going to do something stupid."

"Well then stop him!"

Atrugiel had climbed back to his feet. Fury burned in his eyes. It occurred to Raeth that she should have killed him.

"He locked me in a room," Dean said, "and I can't find a way out."

"What? He locked you—Hold on a minute!"

Atrugiel charged, using the full force of that anger to propel him. He came in whirling crosswise, forehand and back. Raeth back-pedaled and blocked every blow.

"Raeth! You have to come right now!"

"I'm a little busy, Dean!" She answered.

Her opponent lunged and Raeth brought her weapon around in a wide parry that carried his blade away from her, wide and to the right.

There was a pause on the other end that seemed to indicate Dean was finally listening to the background sounds.

"Are you fighting?" He asked, incredulous. "I thought you were looking for Cas!"

"I was!" Raeth grunted as she parried another slash. Angel blades clashed and rang.

There was a noise behind her and she whirled just in time to see Lamechiel driving his blade through Camael's head. Camael – chief angel of powers, her brother – lit up in blazing blue light as he died.

Lamechiel, looking grim, glared at Raeth fiercely, glancing at the phone.

Raeth glared back and lifted her shoulder in a gesture that asked him what he wanted her to do about it. Sam was her actual assignment. Rescuing Adam was something she had been talked into by the opposition to the Apocalypse.

"Raeth? Raeth!? Are you still there? Did you find Cas?"

Lamechiel turned to dive back into the heat of the battle just as Atrugiel came at her again. The attack he was planning would have cut her in half again – this time from her right shoulder to her left hip. Raeth moved in, let the attack come through her outer and middle ring of defense. A quick parry slid it wide of her right shoulder and allowed her to step in and drive her right elbow into his chin.

"Raeth! What's going on?"

Atrugiel staggered back, blood spurting from his mouth. He never had time to recover. Raeth crouched, whipped her leg out to knock him off his feet again, dropping him on his back.

Her blade took him in the chest this time. Raeth was done playing. Sam needed her and now this had to end quickly. She drove her weapon into his vessel as far as it would go, hating the shock in her brother's eyes just before he were gone forever, lost in a blaze of blue-white light.

Dean was still shouting through the phone.

"Raeth!"

She put it back to her ear.

"I will be there as soon as I can," she said, "Do what you can until then!"

She cut off the connection and shoved the phone back in her pocket. Assessing the battle in front of her in a split second, she made a choice, picked an opponent and plunged back into it.

(0)

Dean stood grimly on the other side of the salt line wondering why it was taking Sam so long to end the life of this miserable son-of-a-bitch demon. He was losing all patience and ready to shove Sam out of the way so he could stab Brady himself. Why was Sam standing there listening to that crap?

His phone rang, blessedly giving him something to do beside listen to Brady. A glance at the caller ID filled him with a rush of completely selfish relief. Yes, he was glad that Raeth had survived whatever battle she had been in.

But he was mostly glad that Sam wouldn't have to contend with Raeth being injured or killed on top of this mess with Brady. What happened to Jessica wasn't even an old scar for Sam. It was a wound that ran deep and bled fresh easily. Losing Raeth too would have taken Sam right off his feet. Dean wasn't sure how he would help Sam get back up after all that.

Dean hated that sometimes all he could say to Sam was 'hold on. This is going to hurt like Hell…..'

"Raeth?"

"Yes. Where are you? Is Sam all right?"

"He's on his feet," Dean hedged.

"Tell me where you are."

Dean gave her an address and told her she'd see the car parked in front of the ally. As he finished speaking to her, Sam finally ended the existence of the demon who had taken over his best college friend. Dean exhaled but didn't relax entirely.

Sam would brood now, wallowing in the last few hours. His anger was a live thing, lethal, deadly. Sam's anger was a thing to be feared. Dean was frustrated all over again that Sam hadn't just ended the demon quickly and been done with it. Sam's life was too full of sharp edges and Sam sometimes seemed determine to flay himself on every one of them.

But he admitted to himself that wouldn't have stopped Sam from being angry.

Sam was almost to the car when they heard the sound of a sheet snapping in the wind and Raeth appeared. Dean saw Sam's footsteps stutter when he saw her. In truth, Dean stopped short too.

Raeth was a mess – disheveled and bloody, cut in a dozen places, clothing torn. Sam had not entirely stopped moving. He let out a sound that was part growl and part frustrated sigh. He pulled her into a hug, which she fell into willingly. Dean got the impression she was being crushed; but being angel, it didn't matter. Sam's next whispered words weren't meant for him. He heard them anyway.

"What happened? Are you all right? Cas?"

"This had nothing to do with Castiel," Raeth answered, "I still don't know where he is. This was something else and I will tell you everything later. What happened here? You look like thunder."

Sam shook his head and let her go, putting his hands on her shoulders and then running them up and down her arms absently.

"Something else to talk about later," Sam said. "We know where Pestilence is. We're going back to Bobby's. Come with us. You can rest in the backseat."

Even as he was walking to them, Dean could tell that Raeth's wounds were healing. Part of him wanted her to keep looking for Castiel and part of him wanted her to stay where Sam could fuss over her and forget his own troubles.

She was nodding in agreement when Dean reached them. He shared a short look with Sam, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezing. Sam gave a short nod of his own.

They went to the car and Sam settled Raeth in the back before climbing in the front. He slammed the door and Dean brought the engine roaring to life. The sound shattered the stillness and set dogs barking in the distance.

Dean shifted into drive and took off into the night.

(0)


	131. Let It Burn

Raeth lay beside Sam in the cramped single bed, propped up on one elbow, watching him sleep on the worn out sheets, under the quilt with faded trucks and cars on it. The sun was low on the horizon, seeping through the drawn curtains. She knew that meant he would wake soon. Certainly she could keep him asleep and he also certainly needed it. In the past 2 days he had gone up against Pestilence and stopped the shipments of a lethal virus (after single-handedly rescuing a dozen people first.) He was holding up the weight of the world and ready to jump into Hell to stop an Apocalypse.

If she waited and watched closely enough though, Raeth knew she would catch that shimmering instant when Sam woke and just briefly – just for only a breath or two – he was innocent again. There was a second when he was wiped clean again, without memory or experience, a moment when he was just Sam, warm and safe, waking into a new day.

Raeth loved that moment. She wanted to keep him there forever; to keep him from waking up into a life that would end in tragedy, a life he had never wanted in the first place.

The sunlight moved and cast his face in a soft glow. His hair was loose and draped over the pillow. Raeth's very being hummed with how much she loved him and the agony of knowing she was going to have to let him go.

When Sam started to stir, Raethaniel's face was dry. But that didn't mean she hadn't been crying.

He stirred softly, taking in his first deep breath of morning air. The moment came, was still, and then it was gone. Sam opened his eyes and stared straight ahead. Then he turned and looked at her.

"Good morning," she said.

In his eyes Raeth saw the sorrow, the acceptance of the challenge ahead. But he smiled gently.

"Were you watching me?" He asked.

"Yes," she admitted, because she didn't lie to Sam, ever.

She was rewarded when he breathed out a laugh, rolled over and wrapped her up in his arms. He was still sleep-warm and snuggly. Raeth allowed her human form to accept the comfort, offering what she could in return.

"I talked to Castiel," Sam said.

She absorbed that and then answered. "So did I."

"Did he… did he tell you about the …." He broke off and she felt him swallow. She felt the slight tremor that ran through his body.

"The demon blood," she said it so he wouldn't have to.

Sam nodded quickly. Tension rippled through him again. Glancing up she saw tears wash up into his eyes but not fall.

"Is he right?"

"Yes," she answered.

"You didn't tell me."

"The blood will help you, Sam. It will strengthen your vessel. It will enhance your ability to trap Lucifer within it. But it is your choice to use it or not. All of this is your choice."

Silence fell for a long time. Sam started idly running a thick lock of her hair through his fist, drawing it out until it slipped away, gathering another fistful and drawing it out again. Over and over.

Raeth let him do it, trying to block the sorrow being forced on her by a bleak and unforgiving future. Heaven and Hell had combined powers to force an Apocalypse that would take Sam forever. His strength, his unselfish willingness to be the vessel who could stop it, were breathtakingly, heartbreakingly painful. He would save the world and no one would ever know. He would be part of her past and not of her future.

Now it was her eyes that filled with tears. She was an angel. She had been born an angel – a servant of Heaven, a soldier, no free will, no emotion. None of that was true anymore. Still an angel but now she loved and loved deeply. Now she would choose against the will of Heaven if given the choice. If Sam asked she would run to another dimension with him and never look back. She would give up her life, heart and home for him.

She would surrender her Grace if he asked.

Sam was her joy – a star that had fallen from the sky and into her hands, so bright and beautiful up close he had burned into her very essence. Letting him go would be the most painful thing she had ever endured.

Raeth pushed closer to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and his neck and hugged him tight. Sam would say yes to Lucifer and there was a host in Heaven that would rejoice.

But Sam was also about to defy Heaven on a grand scale and she knew it. It was rebellion to aide him now.

"Will you help me do this?" Sam asked, finally.

She nodded and her hair rustled like silk against his chest.

"Haven't I always?" Raethaniel asked in return.

With that Raethaniel's bridge to Heaven burst into flame. She closed her eyes, held onto Sam and let it burn.

(0)


	132. Forget

The brothers had leaned against the Impala in silence for a little while longer, letting the reality of what they had just agreed to do sink in. They had straightened up and returned to the house in silent unison. Dean had gone to the kitchen. Sam had slipped up the worn wooden stairs to the attic, where solitude and the twin bed with the book shelf and the threadbare quilt of his childhood waited for him. He'd spent very little actual time in this room. But he had always known that Bobby had it waiting for him and there would be new books on the shelf when he visited.

It had given him a sense of space that was different than the way the Impala felt to him – not better or preferable, but different in a way that still felt as if he belonged somewhere. He wanted to remember feelings like that and take them with him when….

….When he jumped into the Cage and took the devil with him.

His hands hurt suddenly and he realized he had his fists clenched white-knuckle tight. Deliberately, he inhaled and forced himself to relax, unbending his fingers a little at a time. When he had relaxed as much as possible he dug his phone out of his back pocket and connected Raethaniel.

She answered immediately and without preamble. "Where are you?"

"Nice to hear from you too," Sam replied, automatically shifting into passive/aggression. He winced internally and regretted it instantly.

"I've been worried, Sam," she said, gently.

Sam exhaled. None of this was her fault.

"Sorry," he said, "A lot's happened. I'm at Bobby's, in the room upstairs. Can you come?"

She appeared in front of him before he had finished asking the question.

"Yes," she said. Her smile was soft. Her eyes were warm as brandy. The phone in her hand vanished. Sam clicked his off and put it away again. "What's happened?"

Fighting the ache in his chest caused by the dull sense of fate and impending doom, Sam answered,

"Dean is on board the plan."

"Meaning?"

"He supports my decision." Dean's faith in him – especially since Dean didn't know about anything Raeth had done to help Sam. He didn't know how well prepared for this Sam actually was. It was simple belief in his brother and it bolstered Sam more than the hours of training with Raeth ever could.

Emotions that angels shouldn't feel flittered across Raethaniel's face like the stages of grief – denial because how could Dean ever agree to something like that, anger because how could this be happening to Sam, wondering if there was a way to make another bargain; and then a deep sadness preceded the shoulder-slumped nod of acceptance.

She sat down on the bed beside him and put her arm around his waist. Sam had spoken simply, without undo emotion or embellishment. But she could feel his despair and sense his agony. Guilt weighed on him heaviest of all. Raeth reached up and laid her hand on his cheek, pressing her forehead against his face.

"Take this with you," she whispered.

In that moment warmth flowed between them and Sam was flooded with a peace so powerful that no words could describe it. It burned away the sadness of his mother's death and absence from his life. It wiped away the pain of losing Jessica and banished the lingering scars of his difficult relationship with his father. Hope too bright to bear blazed like a thousand suns into the core of his soul. Tears would never be enough; laughter would never be enough. Both were useless but it seemed to Sam that he laughed and cried anyway. It was impossible to have so much joy go unexpressed.

When he once again cognizant of the present, he found that he had collapsed into Raeth's arms and was clinging to her like a life ring. She knew the peace within him and for the moment they were one.

"This is Heaven's peace," she murmured, "Now you understand not to fear death. It will be with you always." She continued to hold him until his shaking stopped, stroking his hair and murmuring nonsense all the while. When he finally looked up, Raeth cupped his face and gently kissed his lips, gracefully pushing aside any awkwardness he might feel after sharing such intimacy.

"Thank you," he breathed, blinking away the last of his tears. He sat up straight, suffused with new confidence and sense of purpose.

"I will never stop trying to get you out of there," Raeth swore. "I will use every resource to find a way. Take that with you too."

Sam caught her hand between both of his and said, "Wait…. Wait. As grateful as I am for this, there is one more thing you have to do for me, that I want you to do for me."

"Name it," she said, "If it is within my power, it's yours."

"I need you to wipe away my memories of you, of everything we did, of everything you've ever done for me," Sam answered in a rush.

Raeth's eyes flew open and then narrowed. "Why?"

Sam swallowed. "Once I… once I say yes, Lucifer will know everything I know. He'll find out what you did and he'll see it as betrayal –" When it seemed that she would protest, Sam held up his hand to stop her. "No, don't argue. You know I'm right. I have some experience with brothers and I know exactly how he'll react. I don't want him to get that information from me. You can tell him if you want, but to have it just ripped out of my mind …. Please, Raeth. I can't be responsible for that. If I can't hold him, if I can't win over him right way …. I don't want him to hurt you and use my body to do it."

Tears had floated into his eyes again, turning them rainforest gray. His expression was pleading, as if he didn't remember how she was programmed to respond to him – as if she could deny him anything. Knowing Sam was right and also knowing that Lucifer's rage would extend to making Sam watch as he painted the walls with her vessel's blood, Raeth nodded sadly.

She stood up and tenderly stroked his face one more time.

"Before I do this, I want you to know that I love you," she said. Sam's lips parted in surprise. "Angels aren't supposed to fall in love, but you are a force of nature, Sam Winchester and I love you for it. Close your eyes. Now, forget."

Then she put her hand on top of his head for a moment and every moment they had ever shared drained away – including the last one. When those memories were gone, Raeth slowly faded from view.

When, Sam opened his eyes, he was alone.

(0)


	133. A Prayer to Lucifer

The worst part was that Sam was just gone. Not Dead. Just …. Gone. It would have been easier to mourn him if he was actually dead. Sam was gone and a part of Dean had gone with him. Sam still existed. He was just trapped inside his own shell, helpless, while the devil walked around using his hands and speaking in his voice.

And there was nothing Dean could do about it. He didn't even know where Sam was now.

Helplessness sat ill in Dean Winchester. He functioned in a world in which he had to act as long as a problem still existed – and his brother being possessed by the devil was the very definition of a problem.

He had already reached out to Castiel, who had flatly refused to tell Dean where Lucifer was and given him a harsh warning in a voice of rough stone – "Do not whisper a prayer to Lucifer unless you want him to appear."

Praying to Lucifer didn't appeal to Dean anyway. It gave the arch angel too much of an advantage.

There was only one other person – one other being – who might help him.

Softly Dean whispered, "Raethaniel."

Maybe was just looking in the right place, but this time he saw a liquid shimmer in the air just before he heard the rustle of wings closing. Raethaniel appeared looking as lovely as ever, but her eyes were bleak and her expression mirrored the misery in his own.

Without preamble he said, "Do you know where he is?"

Slowly she shook her head. "I do, but, not exactly."

"Can you find him then?"

"If I had to," she admitted.

"Then take me too him," Dean demanded.

"Absolutely not," Raethaniel stated.

Dean inhaled and she could almost see his hackles rising up in anger. She cut him off before he could start, fighting through her sorrow to stand tall and lift her wings.

"No."

"Why?" Dean snarled.

"Because he's dangerous and he'll kill you," she said, flinging the words at him. "He'll end you with a blink of his eye and use Sam's vessel to do it, all while making Sam watch. While I admit that there is nothing better guaranteed to make Sam overcome Lucifer than for you to be threatened, the end result is still you, dead and Sam left with the memory. I won't do it."

Raethaniel's voice was filled with something like grief and something like fear – a strange blend that sent a chill running down Dean's back. She softened her tone but it trembled and Dean realized her face was chalk-white. "Do you forget of whom we speak?"

Do not whisper a prayer to Lucifer unless you want him to appear…..

Dean took a long, shuddery breath that hurt his chest like wildfire. But the expression on her face and the tone of her voice made him cold straight through to the marrow. Tears pricked his eyes, hot and bright.

"Raeth," he began, but when he tried to say more he couldn't. She waited while Dean gulped in air. She waited until he could speak again. "I can't leave him. This all started because I left him."

For a moment Raeth was confused. Dean had driven Sam away not so long ago, claiming they weren't good together, better off apart. Yes the separation hadn't lasted. Dean had called Sam and been practically glued to his side since then. Then she realized that by 'all' Dean meant the Apocalypse; and 'left him', Dean meant selling his soul to Hell.

"Oh Dean," she said with tender sorrow. "This all started long before you were born. I think it must have started even before I was born. You're just players in the latest chapter."

"I have to be with him," Dean insisted. "I have to see him. I can't leave him alone with this."

If Sam had ever discovered why Dean had suddenly wanted to get back together earlier this year, he had never shared it with Raeth. It seemed to her now that something traumatic had happened to Dean, something possibly worse than Sam surrendering his vessel to Lucifer.

"I'll go," she said, quietly.

Dean looked up, not daring to hope, torn between wanting her to find Sam and not wanting to put her at risk. He started to shake his head.

"He's my brother," she reminded him.

So focused was he on Sam that for a moment Dean had no idea what she was talking about. Sam wasn't her brother. Sam was his brother …. Oh…..

"Aren't you afraid that…," he trailed off and made a vague slicing motion with his hands, "that he'll … you know…"

"Terrified," she answered. Her small smile trembled with delicate, flickering fear. "His mood may have improved now that he… he has what he wanted. We were always close. Before the Fall, we were anyway. I never found out if he forgave me for not joining his rebellion."

"Is he going to forgive you for helping Sam as much as you did?" Dean asked. "For helping to hide him?"

"Lucifer doesn't know about any of that. At least I don't think he does. Sam asked me to wipe his memories so that Lucifer wouldn't find out from him."

Dean blinked and then stared at her, his eyes suddenly dark as old dollar bills.

"Why?"

"To protect me," she answered. Then her voice dropped a note again, "and to protect himself I think. It was one less thing Lucifer could steal from him."

Dean nodded, looking grim.

"I won't ask you to confront him," he ground out, raw-throated. The creases in forehead did not ease.

"You don't have to ask," Raethaniel assured him. "As much as I fear my brother, I love him still. The time for me to see him is long past."

Dean wasn't sure what else to do or say. So he walked over to her and wrapped her in a gentle, hesitant embrace. She hesitated a moment and then hugged him back.

"I'll find him," she said. "Once I call him, it won't be hard."

Dean felt that slow trickle of ice-water fear down him back again. Before he could say anything else, Raethaniel vanished.


	134. The Run

It was not so much rivalry between Michael and Lucifer that had existed from the moment they were brought into existence. It was just that their natures were both so similar and so different. There was peace between them –usually - and respect but there was always an underlying current of wariness. Trust had never really existed. Their sparring matches sent everyone scurrying away to hide until they were done. When Dragon and Phoenix met in combat, even Heaven trembled.

Michael was bright and aloof, content to remain in his assigned Heaven, content with the company of Gabriel and Uriel. Lucifer had been restless and curious, never happy unless he was exploring.

Lucifer's first act of disobedience was small and inconsequential. Raethaniel thought that was why their Father had turned a blind eye to it. Perhaps He had been hoping that the Run would be an outlet for his son's wilder nature, taming him while letting him fly free. The archangels could travel at will between the Heavens, of course. But Lucifer had created the Run – a dizzying and dangerous flight through space and time, in and out among the newly forming planets and suns, across dimensions and through backdoors into each of the separate Heavens. Raeth had used one of the backdoors created by Lucifer to get into the Seventh Heaven only recently. She had been excited when her brother brought her on the Run with him – terrified, but so adoring of her brother that she had gone.

He had kept to the center of the Run when he was with her. Raethaniel sensed that when he was alone, Lucifer played more with the currents and eddies, flying at the speed of light, so fast that the slightest miscalculation would send him crashing into reality, ending the glory of the Morning Star. Once he had reached down and grasped her easily in his talons, pinned his own wings to his body and let them plummet unchecked through space. Raeth had screamed and just when she thought they were about to crash into a blazing blue-white sun, Lucifer had unfurled his wings and glided past it. Raeth could still feel the heat from it sliding over her scales.

Being around her brother had never been safe.

She traveled to an island in the middle of a mountain lake and sat on the edge, gazing at the reflection of her vessel. Her eyes were wide and the pupils were elongated – her dragon eyes. They belonged to her trueform, here angel-self.

Dragons were much bolder than she was and she wondered how her Father had ever chosen this form and given it to her.

She let those eyes slip closed and looked into the darkness behind her eyelids.

"Lucifer," she breathed.

The word had been barely audible, only enough sound to give it life and meaning. She waited, for the space of a single human heartbeat… Two…. Three….

She felt the pull and did not resist. Of course he would not come to her….

When she opened her eyes, blackness surrounded her. There was no sound, no light, no movement at all.

Then she heard the gritty shhhhhh of scales slithering across a floor, the click of claws accompanying heavy footsteps like a clatter of old bones. Red light appeared, grew brighter, larger, formed into an eye. The enormous dragon head emerged from the darkness. In response, Raethaniel shifted to her own dragon form.

More light bled away the inky black so that Raeth could see her brother's entire head and neck.

"Raethaniel," Lucifer said. There was a smirk in his tone. It dripped with sarcasm. But she knew her brother well and she heard the pain, the subtle longing, and the certainty that he would be rejected.

"Brother," she answered.

He circled her, scales rustling like gravel.

"It took you long enough to come to me," he said, accusation deep in the single sentence.

"The last time I tried Ga-," she paused and fought down the still-fresh hurt. "-Gabriel stopped me. He said I shouldn't approach you 'in your current mood'. I thought, now that you have everything you wanted, that it would be safe."

"You'd always be safe with me, Raethaniel."

He abruptly dissolved into his true vessel, leaving her suddenly confronted by Sam Winchester.

The long legs were Sam's. The broad shoulders filling out the blue plaid shirt and khaki jacket were Sam's. The long, softly tousled hair and ever-changing eyes belonged to Sam.

But his feet were set closer and his knees were locked with tension, where Sam always stood braced at shoulder-width, loose and flexed as if to balance on a world that tended to suddenly tilt without warning. The expression on his face was also not Sam's.

Sam would not have looked at her with wary smugness. She had never seen his eyes look so hard, gleaming quite that way. It was typical of him to do something like that, something to knock her off balance. She faded back into her own human vessel and waited for him to speak again.

"Do you remember the Run?" Lucifer asked, circling around her in a way that suggested stalking. It was Sam's soft timbre but not his normal cadence.

"Of course I do," she replied, "Are you telling me that I was safe with you even then?"

His mouth pulled into another smirk.

"Only one thing can kill an angel," he reminded her. Then he paused, considered and shrugged his shoulders in an off-hand, casual way. She didn't believe it for a moment. "Well, two I guess."

Raethaniel didn't realize immediately what he meant. Then she said, "Our Father didn't destroy you when you led a rebellion that caused a civil war in Heaven."

Anger flared red in his eyes. The muscles in his jaw tightened and his chin lifted with the defiance Raethaniel recognized as well. That gesture at least was not so different from Sam. "No. All he did was cage me for eternity."

"In a cage with a lock that could be opened," she reminded him gently. "Lucifer, he loved you. He loved all of us."

He turned away, taking steps that lacked Sam's predatory grace. His footfalls were heavy, all muscle and power.

"He set up a war between Michael and me that will kill one of us, if not both and unleash destruction on his own creation," Lucifer snarled.

Softly Raethaniel said, "Then just don't do it."

He whirled around in a swirl of red lightning flashes, narrow-eyed.

"You rebelled before," Raeth went on in a rush, "You never done anything our Father wanted. Why do this?"

Various expressions flitted across Sam's beloved face but none of them were Sam's. Lucifer ended by looking resigned.

"You're talking to the wrong brother," he said with a sad shake of his head. "Even if I don't want to battle to the death, you'll never get Michael to back down."

"Try?" Raeth suggested.

Maybe it was the tears that glistened or the quaver in her voice. But something briefly softened the angry sarcasm that covered Lucifer like a suit of armor. He tilted his head and studied her curiously.

"Why?" He asked in a low, throaty purr. "Is it Sam you don't want to lose? Is it humanity? Why do you care so much?"

"Because you're finally free and I don't want to lose you again!" She cried. "If you are here and alive, there is hope."

He snorted in derision. "Hope for what?"

Tears spilled over lashes. "That we could do the Run together again. That I could hear you laugh again. Just that…. That you could be my brother again, the way it was before."

Lucifer looked at her with pity, which was far better than looking like he wanted to devour her. But still….

"Oh Raeth," he said, sadly "I don't think any of that is ever going to happen."

"It could," she said, stubbornly.

He snorted and turned away. "Who knows," he said, sardonically, "Maybe Michael won't kill me. Maybe I'll win. At any rate you'll find out when you find your way back."

He turned back around. His eyes blazing, red in their depths like the dragon he was. She had thought his eyes were too bright before but now they were savage. She couldn't look away though she was suddenly seized by fear.

"Back? What do you mean?"

"I'm going to send you away for a while. How long will be up to you. But you're smart, Raeth. You'll figure it out."

"What do you mean?" She whispered.

Lucifer smiled grimly. His eyes, hooded now by his brow, were terrible to meet so she looked away.

"I'm going to send you somewhere far from here. This battle … this war will kill millions on Heaven and on Earth. Even Hell will suffer. I'm going to protect you from that, if I can. Hopefully when you find Earth again this will all be over and you'll find Paradise."

Darkness began to form in front of her vision. Raeth tried desperately to hold onto … What? This dimension? This reality? But it was all beginning to fade. Stars danced in the forming darkness. Lucifer stepped closer to her.

"In spite of everything, I do love you Raeth. I caused you to be born. This way, when you return, there will still be one Dragon left in Heaven."

Raethaniel felt herself being torn away, forced away – a feeling so terrible she could not remember later no matter how much she tried.

She had time to cry out, "Lucifer! No!"

Then the world snapped closed and she did not know anything for a long long time.

(0)

A/N -This will conclude the tags to Season 5. I mean, it's Swan Song. It's kind of perfect exactly the way it is.


	135. Lost

Then:

Raethaniel experienced the oddest feeling of being torn apart, dissolving bit by bit. She was enveloped in power beyond her imagining , blinded in an instant, immersed in the sensation of being younger than she was and more in love than she could ever think of being. She thought of Sam and then she thought this must be the the way one dies. Then she had no thoughts at all for a time longer than she could possibly measure.

Now:

Upon awakening Raethaniel was amazed to find that she was alive. She became aware slowly; at first being able to neither see nor hear. All around her it was dark. She moved hesitantly and felt the rustle of her mane of scales against her neck. She was in her true form then, the dragon she had been born.

Sensation returned a bit at a time. She was not in any kind of pain, though she was disoriented. The air was cold, dank and damp and she was lying on cold hard stone. All around her it was dark and she wondered briefly if Lucifer had blinded her. Then she saw a dim pinpoint of light, enough to convince her that her eyes were open.

She got to her feet and made her way slowly towards the light. It grew larger and brighter until she was able to discern that she was in a vast cavern and the light was coming from the entrance.

The air smelled sickly sweet and unfamiliar. As she emerged from the inky dark she was confronted by a canyon, pockmarked with cave openings, characterized by towering stone spires reaching into an orange sky. Her appearance startled a bird, nesting on the rock wall. She was thousands of feet above the canyon floor but could hear the rush of water far below.

Everything was strange and she knew at once that she was no longer on Earth. She had no idea if she was in the same galaxy as Earth. The power of an archangel could have thrown her into any place, even into any when….

With fear and anger mounting, Raethaniel cast about for Sam, through the tenuous connection she had to his sweet soul.

There was nothing; no answering rush of harmony and strength. She tried harder and strained against time and distance with all of her power.

There was still nothing.

Furious, frustrated, Raethaniel threw back her great dragon head and roared.

(0)

(Continuing scene in Family Matters. The opening dialogue is not mine.)

"All right," Dean said, grudgingly, "If we're going to figure out what happened to your soul, then we need to find who yanked you out. You say you don't know?"

Sam shrugged. "No idea"

"Then we start a list. If it's so hard to spring someone out of the box, then who's got that kind of muscle?" Dean asked the question generally but he was looking at Castiel.

"I don't know," Castiel responded. "You have no memory of your resurrection?"

"I woke up in a field. That's all I got."

"No clues?" Dean pressed. "None?"

Sam's eyes narrowed shrewdly, "I've got one."

"Raethaniel?" Dean asked.

Sam's response was to look puzzled. Castiel said, immediately. "Raethaniel wouldn't have the strength or capabilities to open the Cage. Besides, No one has seen or heard from her since before Sam fell in the Cage. We aren't even certain that she's alive."

"Why would Raethaniel help me?" Sam demanded.

Dean looked at Sam as if his brother had lost more than just his soul. Impatiently he said, "Well she;s your guardian angel, so, you know, I thought she might at least try to rescue you."

"She's my what?" Sam asked.

Impatience spilled over into irritation, an emotion Dean clung to when faced with something he didn't want to accept.

"She's your-," then he broke off, finishing instead by asking, "You don't remember Raethaniel?"

"I remember she helped us with the lake monster and some other things," Sam said, brow furrowed and gaze looking inward, as if he was searching through the deep recesses of his memory.

Dean sighed and looked down. "She said you asked her to wipe away the memories, to keep her safe. I guess she wasn't kidding."

Fury bubbled up unchecked in Sam and, without his usual ability to control his temper, he shot to his feet and hollered,

"So I have no soul and someone messed with my memories?"

"Okay, take it easy," Dean said, moving a step closer hesitantly. Sam was usually slow to anger and Dean knew how to handle his brother when it got the best of him. But this Sam …. This Sam was different. This Sam was a mystery to him. Dean felt as if he was living in a walking nightmare, playing a game with no idea what the rules were. For the first time in his life, Dean was scared, legitimately scared, of something. He wasn't sure he could cope with any of this. It seemed beyond his power to even comprehend, much less find a solution.

"Take it easy!" Sam snapped.

Castiel stepped between them and held up his hands – one towards Dean, and one towards Sam.

"Stop it, both of you," he ordered. "If Sam's memories were blocked they can be restored. Maybe it can give us a clue where Raethaniel is or what happened to her."

He turned to Sam and started to reach for his forehead. Fresh with the memory of the last time Cas had touched him, Sam took a step back and ducked away. Castiel looked annoyed.

"This won't hurt," he said. Then he moved faster than Sam could see, placed his hand on Sam's temple and pressed. It took less time than the average heartbeat. A curtain seemed to lift on Sam's expression. He gaze once again traveled inward as he absorbed new information like water. After a long moment, he sagged like a sail when the wind dies and sank back into the chair.

"She was my guardian," he murmured, as if it perplexed him still. "She helped me learn how to defeat Lucifer once I was possessed."

"How did she do that?" Dean demanded, while Castiel asked at the same time, "Why?"

Sam was still processing the new memories. His eyes traveled back and forth as if he was reading. "I let her possess me. She did it because she knew she couldn't stop me once I had made up my mind to say yes."

Dean grunted. That, at least, sounded like the Sam he knew and remembered. He couldn't fault Raethaniel for recognizing his brother's stubborn streak; nor could he lay any guilt on her for helping Sam.

"Do you know what happened to her?" Castiel asked, anxiously.

"No."

Quietly, Dean said, "I think I know."

The other two looked at Dean sharply.

"I saw her. I asked her to help me get to Sam. She said she'd try to talk to Lucifer. I never saw her again."

Sam had no reaction, but Castiel slumped visibly, his expression sad. "Then she is probably gone." He appeared to give his sorrow a moment and then straightened up.

"If Raethaniel wasn't the one you thought might have the answer to how you were rescued, then who was?" He asked Sam.

Sam stood up. In a voice that sound like a distant purr of thunder he said, "Our Grandfather who used to be dead."

(0)


	136. War

The Civil War in Heaven raged on multiple fronts, but the battle for the Third Heaven had been particularly violent. Castiel had fought alongside his legion – not the legion he had served for his entire existence, but one formed of necessity and a common goal. His new Legion had been formed by the angel Sophia, whose name meant wisdom, and they had followed her willingly against Raphael as both sides of the conflict tried to take the Seat of God.

By the time they had gathered in force before the Gate of the Third Heaven, Raphael was already there with many legions behind him. Beyond the Gate a battle was already in progress as the conflicting forces fought either hold the Gate or take it and throw it open for Raphael.

Castiel has fought had never before, with neither hope nor helplessness. He fought only because his world had been thrown into opposition and he had chosen his side long ago – the moment he had become part of Dean's mockingly titled Team Free Will. He could not allow Raphael to restart the Apocalypse; not after all his friends had sacrificed to stop it. He fought because the only choice left to him was to continue the conflict with heart and courage; the way Sam and Dean had shown him by example. He fought to be worthy of their friendship. He fought because he loved them, to the greatest extent that he could; and he fought because he loved Heaven, He fought because he needed the madness to end.

When it was over, they had lost too many to count and Sophia was badly wounded. They had lost the battle and Raphael had taken the Seat of God and the Gate of the Third Heaven has sealed against them. They regrouped, carrying their wounded and mourning their dead, in the deep mountains of the Sixth Heaven. Some of Raphael's forced made a weak attempt to chase after them. But Sachiel – ruler of the Sixth Heaven – had placed heavy guards in strategic watch towers on the main route to the Gate and they were easily beaten back.

When the last angel had come inside, the Gate was shut and sealed with extra guard in the towers and along the ramparts. Castiel assisted the wounded, sharing his Grace to restore theirs, until he was almost drained. Then he staggered off to sit in the soft grass of the Sixth Heaven, exhausted and trying to remember that defeat did not come when a battle was lost. Defeat came when the struggle was abandoned.

Lamechiel came and sat down beside him. There was a long gash down the angel's arm. Automatically Castiel reached out to heal it, but Mecca waved him off.

"No, Brother," he said, wearily. "It will mend on its own." He lay back in the grass and closed his eyes.

Castiel struggled for something to say but he had no heart for it. It had not been a battle they could afford to lose; and though the fighting had stopped, there was little peace in it.

"We lost Asteraoth," Mecca said, with no inflection and without opening his eyes.

Castiel felt a sharp pang of regret. Asteraoth had been the angel who could thwart great power. But she had been no match for an archangel. It hurt Castiel to realize that he had been more concerned at first for the loss of Asteraoth's abilities than for Asteraoth herself. He mourned for a long, silent time before Mecca once again spoke.

"We need Raethaniel," he said.

Surprised by the turn of the conversation, Castiel burst out, "Why? She is most likely lost as well. I know she guarded the Third Gate for millennia…"

"Yes," Mecca but him off. He sat up, drew up his knees and stared off into the distance, unseeing. "But before that she was Lucifer's favorite. There were rumors that he built backdoors and secret passages into all the Heavens and Raethaniel might know…. No, she most likely would have known where those secret entrances were. There is no way into the Third Heaven through their Gate, not anymore; not with Raphael sitting on the Seat of God. The longer he holds it, the more powerful he will become. But if we could find those hidden passages…."

Meccas trailed off, still looking far away. But the tiniest glimmer of hope rose in Castiel.

"There might be a way to find her, if she still lives."

"How?" Mecca asked, turning at last to face Castiel.

"I recently learned that she possessed Sam Winchester as a vessel. It is possible that a fragment of her Grace remained behind and survived the time in the Cage."

The same hope flickering in Castiel sprang to life in Mecca's eyes.

"Can we extract it?"

"It will be difficult. Raethaniel would have made certain to leave very little behind, to protect Sam.; and it will be hidden. Plus, I will have to convince Sam to say yes to my possessing him and I can't tell him how long it might take."

Castiel stood, though he was still weak. "Say nothing to anyone else. The angels of the Third Heaven, the ones who still support this effort, will be asked to meet and discuss strategy but I do not wish to give false hope. If anyone asks where I am, tell them I am on a mission of great importance and say no more. I'll return as soon as I can."

Mecca stood and grasped Castiel's lower arm in a strong grip.

"Godspeed, Brother," he said.

Castiel nodded, lifted his wings and flew to Earth.

(0)


	137. You Owe Her

The difference between Sam-who-had-a-soul and the Sam Dean currently had to deal with was never more striking than when someone asked Sam to perform a selfless act. Like now, when Castiel was explaining that he needed to temporarily inhabit Sam's vessel to search for a fragment of Grace left behind by Raethaniel. Castiel seemed oblivious to the annoyed, frustrated expression growing darker on Sam's face.

But Castiel seemed oblivious to most things.

Dean knew this wasn't going to happen without his intervention.

"So I wouldn't necessarily need to take control of your vessel," Castiel went on blithely. "I just need to be able to look around until I find her Grace. There is a good chance that Raethaniel trusted me enough that it will reveal itself as soon as I call. It depends on how deeply she was hiding it and since she was hiding it from an archangel as powerful as Lucifer, it might be very deep-"

Coldly Sam-without-a-soul cut him off. "So I came back with no soul my memories blocked and now there's a piece of something not-me still stuck inside me? When does this stop sucking?"

Cas drew a breath to respond but Dean jumped in. "Sam! This is Raeth. Even if you can't feel anything anymore, the two of you were tight – in the Biblical sense even. She helped you defeat Lucifer. She betrayed her brother for you. You owe her a solid."

For a split second anger flared in Sam's eyes and Dean actually braced to block the punch he was sure was coming. Then the moment passed. The anger died but not the jaw-tight frustration.

"Fine," Sam said, dropping into a wooden chair so heavily Dean thought it would break. Sam spread his arms in a gesture of resigned annoyance. "Go ahead. Permission granted. Just get it done and get out."

He had said yes, but he had done it in such a non-Sam-like way that Castiel hesitated.

"Go ahead!" Sam snapped.

Castiel shot an uncertain glance at Dean, who nodded and made a swirling gesture with his hand that meant 'hurry up'.

Hastily Castiel abandoned the vessel that served him so well and took possession of Sam Winchester.

(0)

Castiel had never possessed a vessel he did not intend to control; and he had never possessed one with no soul of its own. He found himself in a strange place that was all neatly organized metal shelves, stacked with books, scrolls, and discs. There was no roof, just a sky overhead that was bleak and the same monotone gray as everything else. There were no walls that Castiel could see, just endless shelves marching in precision into the darkness beyond. There was no color, no sense of joy or sadness, no emotion. There was no sense of Sam.

This then was Sam without the soul that made him who he was – nothing but organized memory and cold hard facts.

And the small spark that might be Raethaniel's Grace could be hiding anywhere – if her Grace had not decided to attach to Sam's soul and was still locked in the Cage. Wearily, Castiel squared his shoulders and began to search, speaking in soft Enochian as he did.

"Raethaniel. If there is any part of you in here I need you to come out. Reveal yourself. You need to reunite. You need to be whole again. Heaven needs you desperately. Sam needs you."

After some time spent fruitlessly searching and pleading, cajoling and trying to be as comforting as possible, Castiel suddenly remembered that he was an angel and in the hierarchy of Heaven, he outranked Raethaniel. He squared his shoulders and shed is outer appearance, becoming once again his true form – a vaguely human shaped Being of pure flame.

"Raethaniel!" He commanded. "Come to me!"

A pinprick of translucent silvery light, no bigger than a distant star in the night sky, sprang up in the gray landscape. If he had not been looking for it, Castiel wouldn't have seen it at all. It floated towards him, shimmering, flickering and uncertain. Castiel held out a hand made of molten, dripping fire and the tiny spark landed on it as lightly as a dragonfly.

"There you are," he said, with some satisfaction, "You didn't leave much behind, did you?"

The light pulsed as if in answer. Castiel grunted. "No, I get it. You couldn't risk being caught by Lucifer. Your plan succeeded though. Sam defeated Lucifer and put him back in the Cage. But Sam is back, on Earth, and he needs you. Heaven needs to know if you still exist. We're going back and you're going to take me to your Host."

The light pulsed again and lifted up, preparing to flee. Castiel left Sam's vessel like a shooting star – rocketing into the atmosphere so quickly he knocked Sam off his feet.

Dean shouted "Sam!" and ran to him. By the time he'd settled his shaken and cursing brother into a chair, Castiel was gone.

(0)

Castiel followed the small fragment of Raethaniel's Grace through the dimensions, through space, almost to the edge of the galaxy. He was heartened by the realization that her Grace had not simply dissolved as soon as it left the safety of Sam's vessel. It was returning to its host as surely as the tide returning to the shore. He arrived on a rocky outcropping on a world he had never seen – to find Raethaniel, in her vessel, sitting and staring out over an unfamiliar landscape.

She was isolated and forlorn and the look of shock that crossed her face as her Grace briefly caressed her cheek before disappearing seemed like the first expression that had obliterated the pain in her eyes in a long time. She stood up in slow motion, as if she had forgotten how to move.

"Castiel?" She said in a rust-coated voice.

"Yes," he said, striding towards her, raining flame, towering over her. "I've come to take you home."

"Home," she repeated. "I …. I am not sure I want to go home."

His eyes narrowed. "Why not? It's where you belong. Heaven is in chaos. We need you. Sam needs you."

"Sam?" Raethaniel looked at him confusion. "Sam is either dead at Michael's hands or Caged with Lucifer. Sam-"

"Is alive," Castiel said.

"That's not possible. Lucifer is powerful but he could not have defeated Michael."

"He didn't. He stopped the Apocalypse. Lucifer is Caged but Sam has been returned."

"Nothing escapes the Cage," she protested.

Castiel shook his head. "We're talking about a Winchester. He's not …whole, however; and Raphael is determined to restart the entire War. We need your help and Sam needs you." Castiel kept emphasizing Sam because he knew Raeth might turn her back on Heaven, but she would never abandon Sam; and sure enough, that is what caught her attention.

"What do you mean Sam isn't 'whole'?"

"Come back with me and see."

But she turned away. "I can do nothing against the power of an archangel," she said, sadly, "and I cannot help Sam is part of him is still in the Cage."

Castiel felt a flare of frustration. She was too clever. He let the frustration have free rein.

"You are an angel of the Lord," he rasped. "You are Raethaniel, slayer of demons. You witnessed the birth of the Universe from perfect darkness. You saw the stars form. You saw the beginning of Time itself. You watched Earth coalesce from a cloud of dust and you sawthe rise of Man. You may be tired. You may feel defeated. But you are one of the most powerful Beings every created and you will resume your duty to Sam Winchester!"

For a moment she stared at him, at the living flame of her celestial brother. Then her earthly vessel shimmered out of existence. In its place there now stood a dragon, shining from shades of gold to starlight white. She rose up, head thrown back, wings lifting until they blotted out the sun.

Castiel lifted wings of molten fire in response and launched into the air. Raethaniel followed him, leaving the lonely place she had known since Lucifer had sent her into exile. Willingly, she followed Castiel back to Earth, back to Heaven, back to Sam.

Back home.

(0)


End file.
